diff --git a/quad/breaktester.rkt b/quad/breaktester.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fc95310b --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/breaktester.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,28 @@ +#lang racket +(require hyphenate "quads.rkt" "world.rkt" "render.rkt" "main.rkt" "utils.rkt") + +(define (make-test-blocks string) + (let ([string string]) + (add-between (list + (block '(quality 100 x-align justify) string) +; (block '(quality 100 x-align justify) string) + ) (block-break)))) + + +(define test-block (block '(font "Equity Text B" measure 265 leading 8 size 10 x-align-last-line left) (apply block #f + (make-test-blocks (hyphenate "“This is a PDF generated from my typesetting system, which is called Quad. I’m writing this in a source file in DrRacket. When I click “Run”, a PDF pops out. Not bad — and no LaTeX needed. Quad, however, does use the fancy linebreaking algorithm developed for TeX. (It also includes a faster linebreaking algorithm for when speed is more important than quality.) This tutorial provides a brief introduction to the Racket programming language by using one of its picture-drawing libraries. Even if you don’t intend to use Racket for your artistic endeavours, the picture library supports interesting and enlightening examples. After all, a picture is worth five hundred “hello world”s."))))) + ;(block-break) (block #f (~a (random))))) + +(define ti5 (block '(font "Equity Text B" x-align justify x-align-last-line left) (block #f (block '(x-align-last-line center weight bold font "Equity Caps B") "Greetings" (block-break) "Matthew & Robby!") (block-break) (block #f " This is a PDF generated from my Racket typesetting language, which is called " (word '(style italic) "Quad.") " I’m writing this in a source file in DrRacket. When I click “Run”, a PDF pops out. Not bad — and no LaTeX needed." (block-break) (box '(width 15)) (word '(font "Concourse T2") "Quad takes some of the good ideas from TeX, like its fancy algorithm for breaking paragraphs into lines. Though respectfully to Prof. Knuth, I believe I’ve even improved it.") (block-break) (box '(width 15)) "Of course, Quad can also handle " (word '(font "Avenir") "different fonts,") (word '(style italic) " styles, ") (word '(size 14 weight bold) "and sizes") " within the same line. As you can see, it can also justify paragraphs. (This sample also uses the new fractional point sizes.)" (block-break) (box '(width 15)) "Truly, the combination of Lisp and typesetting is an unprecedented confluence of geekery. I hope that Quad can become a useful part of the Racket ecosystem." (block-break) (word '(x-align-last-line center weight bold font "Equity Caps B") "thank you for your help" (block-break) "mb" ))))) + +(define ti6 (block #f (apply block '(column-count 3 column-gutter 15 measure 170) (add-between (map (λ(r) (quad-attr-set* ti5 'size r 'leading (* 1.25 r))) (range 8.5 13 .5)) (column-break))) + (page-break) + (apply block '(column-count 2 column-gutter 25 measure 240) (add-between (map (λ(r) (quad-attr-set* ti5 'size r 'leading (* 1.25 r))) (range 10 14 .5)) (column-break))) + (page-break) + (apply block '(column-count 1 column-gutter 15 measure 360) (add-between (map (λ(r) (quad-attr-set* ti5 'size r 'leading (* 1.25 r))) (range 15 18)) (column-break))))) + +(parameterize ([world:quality-default world:max-quality] + [world:paper-width-default 792] + [world:paper-height-default 612]) + (send (new pdf-renderer%) render-to-file (time (typeset ti6)) "foo.pdf") + ) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/ffi/fc-bindings.rkt b/quad/ffi/fc-bindings.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..003480ce --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/ffi/fc-bindings.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,75 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require ffi/unsafe + ffi/unsafe/define + ffi/unsafe/alloc + setup/dirs + racket/draw/private/libs + racket/draw/private/utils) + +(define-runtime-lib fontconfig-lib + [(unix) (ffi-lib "libfontconfig" '("1" ""))] + [(macosx) + (ffi-lib "libpng16.16.dylib") + (ffi-lib "libexpat.1.dylib") + (ffi-lib "libfreetype.6.dylib") + (ffi-lib "libfontconfig.1.dylib")] + [(windows) + (ffi-lib "zlib1.dll") + (ffi-lib "libintl-8.dll") + (ffi-lib "libpng16-16.dll") + (ffi-lib "libexpat-1.dll") + (ffi-lib "libfreetype-6.dll") + (ffi-lib "libfontconfig-1.dll")]) + +(define-syntax-rule (_pfun spec ...) + (_fun #:in-original-place? #t spec ...)) + +(define-ffi-definer define-fc fontconfig-lib + #:provide provide) + + +;; datatype information from +;; http://www.freedesktop.org/software/fontconfig/fontconfig-devel/x31.html +(define FcConfig (_cpointer 'FcConfig)) +(define FcPattern (_cpointer 'FcPattern)) +(define FcPattern-pointer (_cpointer FcPattern)) +(define FcObjectSet (_cpointer 'FcObjectSet)) + +(define FcBool _bool) +(define FcChar8 _bytes) + +(define-cstruct _FcFontSet + ([nfont _int] + [sfont _int] + [fonts FcPattern-pointer])) ;; ?? spec says "FcPattern **fonts" but I don't know how this translates to ffi + + +;; function information from +;; http://www.freedesktop.org/software/fontconfig/fontconfig-devel/x102.html +(define-fc FcGetVersion (_pfun -> _int)) +(define-fc FcConfigCreate (_pfun -> FcConfig)) +(define-fc FcInitLoadConfig (_pfun -> FcConfig)) +(define-fc FcConfigAppFontAddFile (_pfun FcConfig FcChar8 -> FcBool)) +(define-fc FcConfigHome (_pfun -> FcChar8)) +(define-fc FcConfigGetSysRoot(_pfun FcConfig -> FcChar8)) +(define-fc FcFontList(_pfun FcConfig FcPattern FcObjectSet -> _FcFontSet)) +(define-fc FcPatternCreate (_pfun -> FcPattern)) +(define-fc FcFontSetCreate (_pfun -> _FcFontSet)) +(define-fc FcObjectSetCreate (_pfun -> FcObjectSet)) +(define-fc FcPatternPrint (_pfun FcPattern -> _void)) +(define-fc FcPatternEqual (_pfun FcPattern FcPattern -> FcBool)) + +;; attempting to replicate font-loading workaround shown at +;; https://bugzilla.gnome.org/show_bug.cgi?id=347237#c25 +(define cfg (FcConfigCreate)) ; workaround step 1 +(define path (string->bytes/utf-8 "/Users/MB/Desktop/reporter.otf")) + +(FcConfigAppFontAddFile cfg path) ; workaround step 2 +(define fcp (FcPatternCreate)) +(define fcos (FcObjectSetCreate)) + +(define fs (FcFontList cfg fcp fcos)) +(define pat (FcFontSet-fonts fs)) + +;; this crashes DrRacket, prob because I have mangled the _FcFontSet definition +;; (FcPatternPrint pat) diff --git a/quad/ffi/pango-bindings.rkt b/quad/ffi/pango-bindings.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d0f1416d --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/ffi/pango-bindings.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,357 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require ffi/unsafe + ffi/unsafe/define + ffi/unsafe/alloc + racket/draw/unsafe/glib +racket/draw/unsafe/cairo +racket/draw/private/utils +racket/draw/private/libs) + +(define-runtime-lib pango-lib + [(unix) (ffi-lib "libpango-1.0" '("0" ""))] + [(macosx) (ffi-lib "libpango-1.0.0.dylib")] + [(windows) (ffi-lib "libpango-1.0-0.dll")]) + +(define-runtime-lib pangowin32-lib + [(unix) #f] + [(macosx)] + [(windows) + (ffi-lib "libpangowin32-1.0-0.dll")]) + +(define-runtime-lib pangocairo-lib + [(unix) (ffi-lib "libpangocairo-1.0" '("0" ""))] + [(macosx) + (ffi-lib "libharfbuzz.0.dylib") + (ffi-lib "libpangoft2-1.0.0.dylib") + (ffi-lib "libpangocairo-1.0.0.dylib")] + [(windows) + (ffi-lib "libintl-8.dll") + (ffi-lib "libpangowin32-1.0-0.dll") + (ffi-lib "libexpat-1.dll") + (ffi-lib "libfreetype-6.dll") + (ffi-lib "libfontconfig-1.dll") + (ffi-lib "libharfbuzz-0.dll") + (ffi-lib "libpangoft2-1.0-0.dll") + (ffi-lib "libpangocairo-1.0-0.dll")]) + +(define-ffi-definer define-pango pango-lib + #:provide provide) +(define-ffi-definer define-pangocairo pangocairo-lib + #:provide provide) +(define-ffi-definer define-pangowin32 pangowin32-lib + #:provide provide) + +;; Pango's Core Text back-end can somehow go wrong if we're going to eventually +;; use AppKit but don't load AppKit it before using functions such as +;; `pango_cairo_font_map_get_default'. So, force AppKit now for the platform +;; where the Core Text back-end is used: +(when (equal? "x86_64-macosx/3m" + (path->string (system-library-subpath))) + (void (ffi-lib (format "/System/Library/Frameworks/AppKit.framework/AppKit")))) + +;; ALLOCATION NOTE: since Pango calls into Cairo, it has the same +;; allocation constraints on arguments as Cairo functions; see +;; "cairo.rkt". + +(define PangoContext (_cpointer 'PangoContext)) +(define PangoLayout (_cpointer 'PangoLayout)) +(define PangoFontDescription (_cpointer 'PangoFontDescription)) +(define PangoFontFamily (_cpointer 'PangoFontFamily)) +(define PangoFontFace (_cpointer 'PangoFontFace)) +(define PangoFont (_cpointer 'PangoFont)) +(define PangoFontMap (_cpointer 'PangoFontMap)) +(define PangoFontMetrics (_cpointer 'PangoFontMetrics)) +(define PangoAttrList (_cpointer 'PangoAttrList)) +(define PangoAttribute (_cpointer 'PangoAttribute)) +(define PangoLanguage (_cpointer 'PangoLanguage)) +(define PangoCoverage (_cpointer 'PangoCoverage)) +(define PangoLayoutIter (_cpointer 'PangoLayoutIter)) +(define PangoLayoutLine (_cpointer 'PangoLayoutLine)) + + +(define-cstruct _PangoRectangle ([x _int] + [y _int] + [width _int] + [height _int]) + #:malloc-mode 'atomic-interior) +(provide make-PangoRectangle + PangoRectangle-x + PangoRectangle-y + PangoRectangle-width + PangoRectangle-height) + +(define-cstruct _PangoItem + ([offset _int] + [length _int] + [num_chars _int] + ;; Inline PangoAnalysis: + [shape_engine _pointer] + [lang_engine _pointer] + [font (_or-null PangoFont)] + [level _uint8] + [gravity _uint8] + [flags _uint8] + [script _uint8] + [language _pointer] + [extra_attrs _pointer])) + +(provide (struct-out PangoItem) + _PangoItem _PangoItem-pointer) + +(define-cstruct _PangoGlyphInfo + ([glyph _uint32] + [width _uint32] + [dx _uint32] + [dy _uint32] + [is_cluster_start _uint])) + +(provide (struct-out PangoGlyphInfo) + _PangoGlyphInfo _PangoGlyphInfo-pointer) + +(define-cstruct _PangoGlyphString + ([num_glyphs _int] + [glyphs _pointer] + [log_clusters _pointer]) + #:malloc-mode 'atomic-interior) + +(provide (struct-out PangoGlyphString) + _PangoGlyphString) + +(define-cstruct _PangoGlyphItem ([item _PangoItem-pointer] + [glyphs _PangoGlyphString-pointer])) +(provide (struct-out PangoGlyphItem)) + +;; As of Pango 1.28, Pango is not thread-safe at the C level, which +;; means that it isn't place-safe in Racket. Also, for some reason, +;; when parts of Pango are initialized in a non-main place under +;; Windows, then font operations start to fail when that place exits. +;; Run all Pango calls in the original place, which synchronizes them +;; and avoids Windows problems. +(define-syntax-rule (_pfun spec ...) + (_fun #:in-original-place? #t spec ...)) + +(provide g_object_unref g_free) +(define-gobj g_object_unref (_pfun _pointer -> _void) + #:wrap (deallocator)) +(define-glib g_free (_pfun _pointer -> _void) + #:wrap (deallocator)) + +;; For working around a Win32 Pango bug (see `unref-font-map'): +(define _GQueue (_cpointer 'GQueue)) +(define-cstruct _PangoWin32FontMap ([type-instance _pointer] + [ref_count _uint] + [qdata _pointer] + [font_cache _pointer] + [freed_fonts _GQueue])) +(define-glib g_queue_foreach (_pfun _GQueue _fpointer #;(_fun _pointer -> _void) _pointer -> _void)) +(define-glib g_queue_free (_pfun _GQueue -> _void)) +(define-glib g_queue_new (_pfun -> _GQueue)) +(define-gobj raw_g_object_unref _fpointer #:c-id g_object_unref) + +(define (unref-font-map v) + (when (eq? (system-type) 'windows) + ;; For version 1.28 of Pango, reported as Bug 649293: + ;; Under Windows, PangoWin32FontMap holds a queue of freed + ;; fonts, and the fonts hold a weak link back to the map. + ;; Unreffing the font map drops the weak links and *then* + ;; tries to release the freed fonts, which leads to failures + ;; releasing the fonts. Work around the bug by manually + ;; flushing the queue of freed fonts before the font map is + ;; unreffed. + (let ([fm (cast v _pointer _PangoWin32FontMap-pointer)]) + (g_queue_foreach (PangoWin32FontMap-freed_fonts fm) raw_g_object_unref #f) + (g_queue_free (PangoWin32FontMap-freed_fonts fm)) + (set-PangoWin32FontMap-freed_fonts! fm (g_queue_new)))) + (g_object_unref v)) + +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_font_map_get_default (_pfun -> PangoFontMap)) ;; not an allocator +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_font_map_new (_pfun -> PangoFontMap) + #:wrap (allocator unref-font-map)) + +(define-pango pango_context_new (_pfun -> PangoContext) + #:wrap (allocator g_object_unref)) +;; pango_font_map_create_context() is in 1.22 and later +(provide pango_font_map_create_context) +(define (pango_font_map_create_context fm) + (let ([c (pango_context_new)]) + (pango_context_set_font_map c fm) + c)) +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_update_context (_pfun _cairo_t PangoContext -> _void)) + +;; The convenince function pango_cairo_create_context() is in 1.22 and later +(provide pango_cairo_create_context) +(define (pango_cairo_create_context cr) + (let ([ctx (pango_font_map_create_context + (pango_cairo_font_map_get_default))]) + (pango_cairo_update_context cr ctx) + ctx)) + +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_create_layout (_pfun _cairo_t -> PangoLayout) + #:wrap (allocator g_object_unref)) +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_update_layout (_pfun _cairo_t PangoLayout -> _void)) +(define-pango pango_layout_set_text (_pfun PangoLayout [s : _string] [_int = -1] -> _void)) +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_show_layout (_pfun _cairo_t PangoLayout -> _void)) +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_show_layout_line (_pfun _cairo_t PangoLayoutLine -> _void)) +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_show_glyph_string (_pfun _cairo_t PangoFont _PangoGlyphString-pointer -> _void)) +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_layout_line_path (_pfun _cairo_t PangoLayoutLine -> _void)) + +(define-pango pango_layout_iter_free (_pfun PangoLayoutIter -> _void) + #:wrap (deallocator)) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_iter (_pfun PangoLayout -> PangoLayoutIter) + #:wrap (allocator pango_layout_iter_free)) +(define-pango pango_layout_iter_get_baseline (_pfun PangoLayoutIter -> _int)) +(define-pango pango_layout_iter_next_run (_pfun PangoLayoutIter -> _bool)) +(define-pango pango_layout_iter_get_run (_pfun PangoLayoutIter -> (_or-null _PangoGlyphItem-pointer))) +(define-pango pango_layout_iter_get_run_readonly (_pfun PangoLayoutIter -> (_or-null _PangoGlyphItem-pointer)) + #:fail (lambda () pango_layout_iter_get_run)) + +(define-pango pango_layout_get_line (_pfun PangoLayout _int -> PangoLayoutLine)) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_line_readonly (_pfun PangoLayout _int -> PangoLayoutLine) + #:fail (lambda () pango_layout_get_line)) + +(define-pango pango_layout_get_context (_pfun PangoLayout -> PangoContext)) ;; not an allocator +;(define-pango pango_layout_get_extents (_pfun PangoLayout _pointer _PangoRectangle-pointer -> _void)) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_baseline (_pfun PangoLayout -> _int) + ;; The convenince function pango_layout_get_baseline() is in 1.22 and later + #:fail (lambda () + (lambda (layout) + (let ([iter (pango_layout_get_iter layout)]) + (begin0 + (pango_layout_iter_get_baseline iter) + (pango_layout_iter_free iter)))))) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_spacing (_pfun PangoLayout -> _int)) + +(define-pango pango_layout_new (_pfun PangoContext -> PangoLayout) + #:wrap (allocator g_object_unref)) + +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_context_get_font_options (_pfun PangoContext -> _cairo_font_options_t)) ;; not an allocator +(define-pangocairo pango_cairo_context_set_font_options (_pfun PangoContext _cairo_font_options_t -> _void)) ;; makes a copy + +(define-pango pango_layout_set_font_description (_pfun PangoLayout PangoFontDescription -> _void)) ;; makes a copy +(define-pango pango_context_get_font_map (_pfun PangoContext -> PangoFontMap)) ;; not an allocator +(define-pango pango_context_set_font_map (_pfun PangoContext PangoFontMap -> _void)) +(define-pango pango_font_family_get_name (_pfun PangoFontFamily -> _string)) ;; not an allocator +(define-pango pango_font_family_is_monospace (_pfun PangoFontFamily -> _bool)) + +(define-pango pango_language_get_default (_pfun -> PangoLanguage) + ;; not available before 1.16 + #:fail (lambda () (lambda () #f))) +(define-pango pango_font_map_load_font (_pfun PangoFontMap PangoContext PangoFontDescription -> (_or-null PangoFont))) +(define-pango pango_coverage_unref (_pfun PangoCoverage -> _void) + #:wrap (deallocator)) +(define-pango pango_font_get_coverage (_pfun PangoFont PangoLanguage -> PangoCoverage) + #:wrap (allocator pango_coverage_unref)) +(define-pango pango_coverage_get (_pfun PangoCoverage _int -> _int)) + +(define-pango pango_font_metrics_unref (_pfun PangoFontMetrics -> _void) + #:wrap (deallocator)) +(define-pango pango_font_get_metrics (_pfun PangoFont (_or-null PangoLanguage) -> PangoFontMetrics) + #:wrap (allocator pango_font_metrics_unref)) +(define-pango pango_font_metrics_get_approximate_char_width (_pfun PangoFontMetrics -> _int)) +(define-pango pango_font_metrics_get_ascent (_pfun PangoFontMetrics -> _int)) +(define-pango pango_font_metrics_get_descent (_pfun PangoFontMetrics -> _int)) + +(define-pango pango_layout_get_unknown_glyphs_count (_pfun PangoLayout -> _int) + ;; not available in old versions: + #:fail (lambda () (lambda (lo) 0))) + +(define-pango pango_attr_list_unref (_pfun PangoAttrList -> _void) + #:wrap (deallocator)) +(define-pango pango_attr_list_new (_pfun -> PangoAttrList) + #:wrap (allocator pango_attr_list_unref)) +(define-pango pango_attr_list_insert (_pfun PangoAttrList PangoAttribute -> _void) + ;; takes ownership of the attribute + #:wrap (deallocator cadr)) + +(define-pango pango_attribute_destroy (_pfun PangoAttribute -> _void) + #:wrap (deallocator)) +(define-pango pango_attr_underline_new (_pfun _int -> PangoAttribute) + #:wrap (allocator pango_attribute_destroy)) +(define-pango pango_attr_fallback_new (_pfun _bool -> PangoAttribute) + #:wrap (allocator pango_attribute_destroy)) + +(define-pango pango_layout_set_attributes (_pfun PangoLayout PangoAttrList -> _void)) + +(define-pango pango_font_map_list_families (_pfun PangoFontMap + (fams : (_ptr o _pointer)) + (len : (_ptr o _int)) + -> _void + -> (begin0 + (for/list ([i (in-range len)]) + (ptr-ref fams PangoFontFamily i)) + (g_free fams)))) +(define-pango pango_font_family_list_faces (_pfun PangoFontFamily + (faces : (_ptr o _pointer)) + (len : (_ptr o _int)) + -> _void + -> (begin0 + (for/list ([i (in-range len)]) + (ptr-ref faces PangoFontFace i)) + (g_free faces)))) +(define-pango pango_font_face_get_face_name (_pfun PangoFontFace -> _string)) + +(define-pango pango_font_description_free (_pfun PangoFontDescription -> _void) + #:wrap (deallocator)) +(define-pango pango_font_description_new (_pfun -> PangoFontDescription) + #:wrap (allocator pango_font_description_free)) +(define-pango pango_font_description_from_string (_pfun _string -> PangoFontDescription) + #:wrap (allocator pango_font_description_free)) +(define-pango pango_font_description_set_family (_pfun PangoFontDescription _string -> _void)) +(define-pango pango_font_description_set_style (_pfun PangoFontDescription _int -> _void)) +(define-pango pango_font_description_set_weight (_pfun PangoFontDescription _int -> _void)) +(define-pango pango_font_description_set_size (_pfun PangoFontDescription _int -> _void)) +(define-pango pango_font_description_set_absolute_size (_pfun PangoFontDescription _double* -> _void)) +(define-pango pango_font_description_get_family (_pfun PangoFontDescription -> _string)) + +(define _PangoWin32FontCache (_cpointer 'PangoWin32FontCache)) +(define _HFONT (_cpointer 'HFONT)) +(define _LOGFONT-pointer _pointer) +(define-pangowin32 pango_win32_font_map_for_display (_pfun -> PangoFontMap) + #:make-fail make-not-available) +(define-pangowin32 pango_win32_font_logfont (_pfun PangoFont -> _LOGFONT-pointer) + #:make-fail make-not-available + #:wrap (allocator g_free)) +(define-pangowin32 pango_win32_font_description_from_logfont (_pfun _LOGFONT-pointer -> PangoFontDescription) + #:make-fail make-not-available + #:wrap (allocator pango_font_description_free)) +(define-pangowin32 pango_win32_font_cache_unload (_pfun _PangoWin32FontCache _HFONT -> _void) + #:make-fail make-not-available) +(define-pangowin32 pango_win32_font_cache_load (_pfun _PangoWin32FontCache _LOGFONT-pointer -> _HFONT) + #:make-fail make-not-available) +(define-pangowin32 pango_win32_font_cache_new (_pfun -> _PangoWin32FontCache) + #:make-fail make-not-available) + +(define-enum + 0 + PANGO_STYLE_NORMAL + PANGO_STYLE_OBLIQUE + PANGO_STYLE_ITALIC) + +(define-enum + 0 + PANGO_UNDERLINE_NONE + PANGO_UNDERLINE_SINGLE + PANGO_UNDERLINE_DOUBLE + PANGO_UNDERLINE_LOW + PANGO_UNDERLINE_ERROR) + +(define/provide PANGO_WEIGHT_LIGHT 300) +(define/provide PANGO_WEIGHT_MEDIUM 500) +(define/provide PANGO_WEIGHT_BOLD 700) + +(define/provide PANGO_SCALE 1024) + + +(define-pango pango_layout_set_width (_pfun PangoLayout _int -> _void)) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_width (_pfun PangoLayout -> _int)) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_character_count (_pfun PangoLayout -> _int)) +(define-pango pango_layout_copy (_pfun PangoLayout -> PangoLayout)) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_serial (_pfun PangoLayout -> _uint)) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_text (_pfun PangoLayout -> _string/utf-8)) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_attributes (_pfun PangoLayout -> PangoAttrList)) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_font_description (_pfun PangoLayout -> PangoFontDescription)) + +(define-pango pango_font_description_get_size (_pfun PangoFontDescription -> _int)) + +(define-pango pango_layout_get_extents (_pfun PangoLayout _PangoRectangle-pointer _PangoRectangle-pointer -> _void)) +(define-pango pango_layout_get_pixel_extents (_pfun PangoLayout _PangoRectangle-pointer _PangoRectangle-pointer -> _void)) diff --git a/quad/font.cache b/quad/font.cache new file mode 100644 index 00000000..fd3b8b48 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/font.cache @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +((3) 0 () 2 ("Equity Text B" "Equity Text B") () (h ! (equal) ((c (u . "suggested") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 3933.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "who") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1703.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "man.") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1994.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "there—not") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 4441.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "beautiful") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 3511.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "round.") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2655.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "comparatively") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 5639.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "anew.") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2272.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "pensioners—") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 5359.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "gentle") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2442.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "I,”") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1118.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "skeer") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2091.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "rattle") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2114.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . 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"in,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1043.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "trivial") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2353.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "heap") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 1909.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "letters,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2790.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "field") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1751.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "purchased") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 4135.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "coming") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2959.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "But,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1719.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "utilitarian") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 3922.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "With") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2032.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "twice") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2153.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "sir—only") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 3746.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "now") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1693.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "pig-sty.") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 2913.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "“I") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 931.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "available") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 3443.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "moment") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 3350.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "your") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 1822.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "was") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 1507.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "seats,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2230.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "new") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1648.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "left—were") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 4247.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "walked") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2790.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "lying") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1946.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "understand") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 4545.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "were,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2187.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "soil,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1657.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "time.") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2065.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "i") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 255.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "blacksmith.") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 4580.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "reflecting.") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 4035.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "x") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 461.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "Jude") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 1831.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "years,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2343.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "outcry:") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2856.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "auditor") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2862.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "here.") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2020.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "top,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1584.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "dormered") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 3926.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "translucent,") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 4770.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "other") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2142.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "respectful") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 3991.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "E") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 617.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "old") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1267.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "immemorially") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 5574.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "went") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 1953.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "somewhat") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 4058.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "straw") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 2157.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "split") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1736.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "least") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1841.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "through") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 3184.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "view,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2066.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "possessing,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 4491.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "go,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1220.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "family") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2479.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "say,") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 1470.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "pausing") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 3072.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "twenty") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 2738.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "could") c (? . 1) q normal normal) q 2227.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0) ((c (u . "crazy") c (? . 0) q normal normal) q 2120.0 1204.0 256.0 0.0))) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/logger.rkt b/quad/logger.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..33989d44 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/logger.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,77 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require (for-syntax racket/base racket/syntax) sugar/coerce racket/contract) +(require "world.rkt" racket/match sugar/debug racket/date racket/list) +(module+ test (require rackunit)) +(provide (all-defined-out)) + + +(define-syntax-rule (define-orphan-logger name) + (begin + (define remember-cl (current-logger)) + (define dummy-cl (make-logger)) + (current-logger dummy-cl) + (define-logger name) + (current-logger remember-cl))) + + +(define levels '(none fatal error warning info debug)) + +(define/contract (log-level> lev1 lev2) + (symbol? symbol? . -> . coerce/boolean?) + (member lev1 (cdr (member lev2 levels)))) + +(define/contract (log-level>= lev1 lev2) + (symbol? symbol? . -> . coerce/boolean?) + (member lev1 (member lev2 levels))) + +(define (log-level< lev1 lev2) + (log-level> lev2 lev1)) + +(define (log-level<= lev1 lev2) + (log-level>= lev2 lev1)) + + +(module+ test + (check-true (log-level< 'none 'error)) + (check-true (log-level<= 'none 'none)) + (check-false (log-level< 'none 'none)) + (check-true (log-level> 'warning 'error)) + (check-true (log-level>= 'debug 'debug)) + (check-false (log-level> 'fatal 'debug))) + + +(define-logger quad) + +(define-syntax-rule (activate-logger logger) + (begin + (define logger-receiver (make-log-receiver logger (world:logging-level))) + (define log-file (build-path (current-directory) (format "~a.txt" 'logger))) + (with-output-to-file log-file #:exists 'truncate void) + (void (thread + (λ () + (let loop () + (match (sync logger-receiver) + [(vector event-level event-message event-value name) + (define msg (format "[~a] ~a\n" event-level event-message)) + ; (eprintf msg) + (flush-output) + (with-output-to-file log-file #:exists 'append (λ () (display msg)))]) + (loop)))) + (log-quad-info "started at ~a" (date->string (current-date) #t))))) + + +(define-syntax-rule (log-quad-debug-report x) + (begin + (log-quad-debug "~a = ~a" 'x x) + x)) + +(define-syntax-rule (log-quad-debug* xs) + (when (equal? (world:logging-level) 'debug) + (map (λ(x) (log-quad-debug x)) xs))) + +(module+ main + (activate-logger quad-logger) + (log-quad-fatal "Exterminate! Exterminate!") + (log-quad-error "~a" (time (apply + (range 1000)))) + (log-quad-debug "What's the red button for?")) + diff --git a/quad/main.rkt b/quad/main.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1b87d2fb --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/main.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,225 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require racket/list sugar racket/contract racket/function math/flonum) +(require "quads.rkt" "utils.rkt" "wrap.rkt" "measure.rkt" "world.rkt" "logger.rkt") +(provide typeset) + +(define+provide/contract (input->multipages i) + (input? . -> . multipages?) + (define exploded-input (split-quad i)) + (map quads->multipage (split-on-page-breaks exploded-input))) + + +(define/contract (multipage->multicolumns mp) + (multipage? . -> . multicolumns?) + (map quads->multicolumn (split-on-column-breaks (quad-list mp)))) + + +(define+provide/contract (multicolumn->blocks mc) + (multicolumn? . -> . blocks?) + ;; segfault happens in next line + (map quads->block (split-on-block-breaks (quad-list mc)))) + + +(define+provide/contract (merge-adjacent-within q) + (quad? . -> . quad?) + (quad (quad-name q) (quad-attrs q) (join-quads (quad-list q)))) + +(define (hyphenate-quad-except-last-word q) + (log-quad-debug "last word will not be hyphenated") + (define-values (first-quads last-quad) (split-last (quad-list q))) + (quad (quad-name q) (quad-attrs q) (snoc (map hyphenate-quad first-quads) last-quad))) + +(define+provide/contract (average-looseness lines) + (lines? . -> . flonum?) + (if (<= (length lines) 1) + 0.0 + (let ([lines-to-measure (drop-right lines 1)]) ; exclude last line from looseness calculation + (round-float (fl/ (fold-fl+ (map (λ(line) (quad-attr-ref line world:line-looseness-key 0.0)) lines-to-measure)) (fl- (fl (length lines)) 1.0)))))) + + +(define (log-debug-lines lines) + (log-quad-debug "line report:") + (for/list ([(line idx) (in-indexed lines)]) + (format "~a/~a: ~v ~a" idx + (length lines) + (quad->string line) + (quad-attr-ref line world:line-looseness-key)))) +(require racket/trace) +(define+provide/contract (block->lines b-in) + (block? . -> . lines?) + (define b (if (ormap string? (quad-list b-in)) + (quads->block (split-quad b-in)) + b-in)) + (define quality (quad-attr-ref/parameter b world:quality-key)) + (define (wrap-quads qs) + (define wrap-proc (if (> quality world:draft-quality) wrap-best wrap-first)) + (wrap-proc qs)) + (log-quad-debug "wrapping lines") + (log-quad-debug "quality = ~a" quality) + (log-quad-debug "looseness tolerance = ~a" world:line-looseness-tolerance) + (define wrapped-lines-without-hyphens (wrap-quads (quad-list b))) ; 100/150 + (log-quad-debug* (log-debug-lines wrapped-lines-without-hyphens)) + (define avg-looseness (average-looseness wrapped-lines-without-hyphens)) + (define gets-hyphenation? (and world:use-hyphenation? + (fl> avg-looseness world:line-looseness-tolerance))) + (log-quad-debug "average looseness = ~a" avg-looseness) + (log-quad-debug (if gets-hyphenation? "hyphenating" "no hyphenation needed")) + + (define wrapped-lines (if gets-hyphenation? + (wrap-quads (split-quad ((if world:allow-hyphenated-last-word-in-paragraph + hyphenate-quad + hyphenate-quad-except-last-word) (merge-adjacent-within b)))) + wrapped-lines-without-hyphens)) + + (when gets-hyphenation? (log-quad-debug* (log-debug-lines wrapped-lines))) + + + (log-quad-debug "final looseness = ~a" (average-looseness wrapped-lines)) + (map insert-spacers-in-line + (for/list ([line-idx (in-naturals)][line (in-list wrapped-lines)]) + (quad-attr-set* line 'line-idx line-idx 'lines (length wrapped-lines))))) + + +(define+provide/contract (number-pages ps) + (pages? . -> . pages?) + (for/list ([i (in-naturals)][p (in-list ps)]) + (quad (quad-name p) (merge-attrs (quad-attrs p) `(page ,i)) (quad-list p)))) + +(define+provide/contract (pages->doc ps) + (pages? . -> . doc?) + (map quad-attrs (quad-list (first ps))) + + ;; todo: resolve xrefs and other last-minute tasks + ;; todo: generalize computation of widths and heights, recursively + (define (columns-mapper page) + (quad-map (compose1 add-vert-positions (curry quad-map (compose1 compute-line-height add-horiz-positions fill))) page)) + (define mapped-pages (map columns-mapper (number-pages ps))) + (define doc (quads->doc mapped-pages)) + doc) + +(require racket/class csp) +(define+provide/contract (lines->columns lines) + (lines? . -> . columns?) + (define prob (new problem%)) + (define max-column-lines world:default-lines-per-column) + (define-values (columns ignored-return-value) + (for/fold ([columns null][lines-remaining lines])([col-idx (in-naturals)] #:break (empty? lines-remaining)) + (log-quad-info "making column ~a" (add1 col-idx)) + ;; domain constraint is best way to simplify csp, because it limits the search space. + ;; search from largest possible value to smallest. + ;; largest possible is the minimum of the max column lines, or + ;; the number of lines left (modulo minimum page lines) ... + (define viable-column-range + (range (min max-column-lines (max + (length lines-remaining) + (- (length lines-remaining) world:minimum-lines-per-column))) + ;; ... and the smallest possible is 1, or the current minimum lines. + ;; (sub1 insures that range is inclusive of last value.) + (sub1 (min 1 world:minimum-lines-per-column)) -1)) + + (log-quad-debug "viable number of lines for this column to start =\n~a" viable-column-range) + (send prob add-variable "column-lines" viable-column-range) + + + ;; greediness constraint: leave enough lines for next page, or take all + (define (greediness-constraint pl) + (define leftover (- (length lines-remaining) pl)) + (or (= leftover 0) (>= leftover world:minimum-lines-per-column))) + (send prob add-constraint greediness-constraint '("column-lines")) + + (log-quad-debug "viable number of lines after greediness constraint =\n~a" (map (curryr hash-ref "column-lines") (send prob get-solutions))) + + ;; last lines constraint: don't take page that will end with too few lines of last paragraph. + (define (last-lines-constraint pl) + (define last-line-of-page (list-ref lines-remaining (sub1 pl))) + (define lines-in-this-paragraph (quad-attr-ref last-line-of-page world:total-lines-key)) + (define line-index-of-last-line (quad-attr-ref last-line-of-page world:line-index-key)) + (define (paragraph-too-short-to-meet-constraint?) + (< lines-in-this-paragraph world:min-last-lines)) + (or (paragraph-too-short-to-meet-constraint?) + (>= (add1 line-index-of-last-line) world:min-last-lines))) + (send prob add-constraint last-lines-constraint '("column-lines")) + + (log-quad-debug "viable number of lines after last-lines constraint =\n~a" (map (curryr hash-ref "column-lines") (send prob get-solutions))) + + ;; first lines constraint: don't take page that will leave too few lines at top of next page + (define (first-lines-constraint pl lines-remaining) + (define last-line-of-page (list-ref lines-remaining (sub1 pl))) + (define lines-in-this-paragraph (quad-attr-ref last-line-of-page world:total-lines-key)) + (define line-index-of-last-line (quad-attr-ref last-line-of-page world:line-index-key)) + (define lines-that-will-remain (- lines-in-this-paragraph (add1 line-index-of-last-line))) + (define (paragraph-too-short-to-meet-constraint?) + (< lines-in-this-paragraph world:min-first-lines)) + (or (paragraph-too-short-to-meet-constraint?) + (= 0 lines-that-will-remain) ; ok to use all lines ... + (>= lines-that-will-remain world:min-first-lines))) ; but if any remain, must be minimum number. + (send prob add-constraint (curryr first-lines-constraint lines-remaining) '("column-lines")) + + (log-quad-debug "viable number of lines after first-lines constraint =\n~a" (map (curryr hash-ref "column-lines") (send prob get-solutions))) + + + (define s (send prob get-solution)) + (define how-many-lines-to-take (hash-ref s "column-lines")) + (define-values (lines-to-take lines-to-leave) (split-at lines-remaining how-many-lines-to-take)) + (log-quad-debug "taking ~a lines for column ~a:" how-many-lines-to-take (add1 col-idx)) + (map (λ(idx line) (log-quad-debug "~a:~a ~v" (add1 col-idx) (add1 idx) (quad->string line))) (range how-many-lines-to-take) lines-to-take) + (send prob reset) + (values (cons (quad-attr-set (quads->column lines-to-take) world:column-index-key col-idx) columns) lines-to-leave))) + (reverse columns)) + +(define/contract (columns->pages cols) + (columns? . -> . pages?) + (define columns-per-page (quad-attr-ref/parameter (car cols) world:column-count-key)) + (define column-gutter (quad-attr-ref/parameter (car cols) world:column-gutter-key)) + ;; don't use default value here. If the col doesn't have a measure key, + ;; it deserves to be an error, because that means the line was composed incorrectly. + (when (not (quad-has-attr? (car cols) world:measure-key)) + (error 'columns->pages "column attrs contain no measure key: ~a ~a" (quad-attrs (car cols)) (quad-car (car cols)))) + (define column-width (quad-attr-ref (car cols) world:measure-key)) + (define width-of-printed-area (+ (* columns-per-page column-width) (* (sub1 columns-per-page) column-gutter))) + (define result-pages + (map (λ(cols) (quads->page cols)) + (for/list ([page-cols (in-list (slice-at cols columns-per-page))]) + (define-values (last-x cols) + (for/fold ([current-x (/ (- (world:paper-width-default) width-of-printed-area) 2)][cols empty]) ([col (in-list page-cols)][idx (in-naturals)]) + (values (+ current-x column-width column-gutter) (cons (quad-attr-set* col 'x current-x 'y 40 world:column-index-key idx) cols)))) + (reverse cols)))) + result-pages) + + +(define/contract (typeset x) + (coerce/input? . -> . doc?) + (cond + [(input? x) (load-text-cache-file) + (define multipages (input->multipages x)) ; 170 + (define pages (append-map typeset multipages)) ; 2370 + (define doc (typeset pages)) ; 370 + (update-text-cache-file) + doc] + [(multipage? x) (define multicolumns (multipage->multicolumns x)) ; 77 + (define columns (append-map typeset multicolumns)) ; 2420 + (define pages (typeset columns)) ; 0 + pages] + [(multicolumn? x) (define blocks (multicolumn->blocks x)) ; 85 + (define lines (append-map typeset blocks)) ; 2422 + (define columns (typeset lines)) ; 4 + columns] + [(lines? x) (map typeset (lines->columns x))] ; 10 + [(pages? x) (typeset (pages->doc x))] ; 370 + [(columns? x) (map typeset (columns->pages x))] ; 1 + [(block? x) (map typeset (block->lines x))] ; about 2/3 of running time + [else x])) + +(define (para ht . xs) + (apply box ht `(,(block-break) ,@xs ,(block-break)))) + + +(module+ main + (require "render.rkt" racket/class profile) + (require "samples.rkt") + (activate-logger quad-logger) + (parameterize ([world:quality-default world:max-quality] + [world:paper-width-default 412] + [world:paper-height-default 600]) + (define to (begin (time (typeset (jude))))) + (time (send (new pdf-renderer%) render-to-file to "foo.pdf")))) diff --git a/quad/measure.rkt b/quad/measure.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d9889d01 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/measure.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,67 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require math/flonum racket/draw racket/class racket/contract sugar/debug sugar/list racket/list sugar/cache racket/serialize racket/file) +(provide measure-text measure-ascent round-float update-text-cache-file load-text-cache-file) + +(define precision 4.0) +(define base (flexpt 10.0 precision)) + +(define-syntax-rule (round-float x) + (fl/ (flround (fl* base (fl x))) base)) + +(define dc (new record-dc%)) + +(define max-size 1000.0) + +(define/caching (make-font/caching font weight style) + (make-font #:size max-size #:style style #:weight weight #:face font)) + +(define (get-cache-file-path) + (build-path "font.cache")) + +(define (update-text-cache-file) + (when (current-text-cache-changed?) + (write-to-file (serialize (current-text-cache)) (get-cache-file-path) #:exists 'replace) + (current-text-cache-changed? #f))) + +(define (load-text-cache-file) + (define cache-file-path (get-cache-file-path)) + (current-text-cache (if (file-exists? cache-file-path) + (deserialize (file->value cache-file-path)) + (make-hash)))) + +(define current-text-cache (make-parameter (make-hash))) +(define current-text-cache-changed? (make-parameter #f)) +(define current-font-cache (make-parameter (make-hash))) + +(define/caching (measure-max-size text font [weight 'normal] [style 'normal]) + ;((string? string?) (symbol? symbol?) . ->* . number?) + (define font-instance (hash-ref! (current-font-cache) (list font weight style) (λ() (make-font #:size max-size #:style style #:weight weight #:face font)))) + ;; combine boolean only makes a difference for two or more chars + (hash-ref! (current-text-cache) (list text font weight style) (λ() (current-text-cache-changed? #t) + (values->list (send dc get-text-extent text font-instance (>= (string-length text) 1)))))) + +(define (width x) (first x)) +(define (height x) (second x)) +(define (descent x) (third x)) +(define (extra x) (fourth x)) + +(define (measure-text-max-size text font [weight 'normal] [style 'normal]) + (width (measure-max-size text font weight style))) + +(define/contract (measure-text text size font [weight 'normal] [style 'normal]) + ((string? flonum? string?) (symbol? symbol?) . ->* . flonum?) + ;; Native function only accepts integers, so get max-size and scale down to size needed. + (define raw-measure (measure-text-max-size text font weight style)) + (round-float (fl/ (fl* (fl raw-measure) size) max-size))) + + +(define (measure-ascent-max-size text font [weight 'normal] [style 'normal]) + (define result-list (measure-max-size text font weight style)) + (- (height result-list) (descent result-list))) + + +(define/contract (measure-ascent text size font [weight 'normal] [style 'normal]) + ((string? flonum? string?) (symbol? symbol?) . ->* . flonum?) + ;; Native function only accepts integers, so get max-size and scale down to size needed. + (define raw-baseline-distance (measure-ascent-max-size text font weight style)) + (round-float (fl/ (fl* (fl raw-baseline-distance) size) max-size))) diff --git a/quad/ocm.rkt b/quad/ocm.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..671a9c9a --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/ocm.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,434 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require (for-syntax racket/base racket/syntax)) +(require racket/list sugar/debug rackunit racket/function racket/vector sugar/cache "logger.rkt") +(define-logger ocm) +;(activate-logger ocm-logger) + + +#| +Totally monotone matrix searching algorithms. + +The offline algorithm in ConcaveMinima is from Agarwal, Klawe, Moran, +Shor, and Wilbur, Geometric applications of a matrix searching algorithm, +Algorithmica 2, pp. 195-208 (1987). + +The online algorithm in OnlineConcaveMinima is from Galil and Park, +A linear time algorithm for concave one-dimensional dynamic programming, +manuscript, 1989, which simplifies earlier work on the same problem +by Wilbur (J. Algorithms 1988) and Eppstein (J. Algorithms 1990). + +D. Eppstein, March 2002, significantly revised August 2005 + +|# + +(provide smawky? make-ocm reduce reduce2 (prefix-out ocm- (combine-out min-value min-index))) + +(define (select-elements xs is) + (map (curry list-ref xs) is)) + +(define (odd-elements xs) + (select-elements xs (range 1 (length xs) 2))) + +(define (vector-odd-elements xs) + (for/vector ([i (in-range (vector-length xs))] #:when (odd? i)) + (vector-ref xs i))) + +(define (even-elements xs) + (select-elements xs (range 0 (length xs) 2))) + +;; Wrapper for the matrix procedure +;; that automatically maintains a hash cache of previously-calculated values +;; because the minima operations tend to hit the same values. +;; Assuming here that (matrix i j) is invariant +;; and that the matrix function is more expensive than the cache lookup. + + + +(define-syntax-rule (vector-append-item xs value) + (vector-append xs (vector value))) + +(define-syntax-rule (vector-set vec idx val) + (begin + (vector-set! vec idx val) + vec)) + +(define-syntax-rule (vector-cdr vec) + (vector-drop vec 1)) + +(define-syntax-rule (vector-empty? vec) + (= 0 (vector-length vec))) + + +(define (integers? x) (and (list? x) (andmap integer? x))) + +;; Reduce phase: make number of rows at most equal to number of cols +(define (reduce row-indices col-indices matrix-proc value->integer) + ;(vector? vector? procedure? procedure? . -> . vector?) + (log-ocm-debug "starting reduce phase with") + (log-ocm-debug "row-indices = ~a" row-indices) + (log-ocm-debug "col-indices = ~a" col-indices) + (define (process-stack stack row-idx) + (log-ocm-debug "row stack = ~a" stack) + (let ([last-stack-idx (sub1 (vector-length stack))]) + (cond + [(and (>= (vector-length stack) 1) + (log-ocm-debug "comparing row values at column ~a" (vector-ref col-indices last-stack-idx)) + (log-ocm-debug "end of row stack (~a) value at column ~a = ~a" (vector-ref stack last-stack-idx) (vector-ref col-indices last-stack-idx) (value->integer (matrix-proc (vector-ref stack last-stack-idx) (vector-ref col-indices last-stack-idx)))) + (log-ocm-debug "challenger row (~a) value at column ~a = ~a" row-idx (vector-ref col-indices last-stack-idx) (value->integer (matrix-proc row-idx (vector-ref col-indices last-stack-idx)))) + (> (value->integer (matrix-proc (vector-ref stack last-stack-idx) (vector-ref col-indices last-stack-idx))) + (value->integer (matrix-proc row-idx (vector-ref col-indices last-stack-idx))))) + + (log-ocm-debug "challenger row (~a) wins with a new minimum ~a, so end of row stack (~a) is removed" row-idx (value->integer (matrix-proc row-idx (vector-ref col-indices last-stack-idx))) (vector-ref stack last-stack-idx)) + (process-stack (vector-drop-right stack 1) row-idx)] + [else + (log-ocm-debug (if (< (vector-length stack) 1) + (format "row stack too short for challenge, pushing row ~a" row-idx) + (format "challenger row (~a) loses to end of row stack (~a), so ~a joins stack" row-idx (vector-ref stack last-stack-idx) row-idx))) + stack]))) + + (define reduced-row-indexes + (for/fold ([stack (vector)]) ([row-idx (in-vector row-indices)]) + (let ([stack (process-stack stack row-idx)]) + (if (= (vector-length stack) (vector-length col-indices)) + stack + (vector-append stack (vector row-idx)))))) + (log-ocm-debug "finished reduce. row indexes = ~v" reduced-row-indexes) + reduced-row-indexes) + + +(define (reduce2 row-indices col-indices matrix-proc value->integer) + (let find-survivors ([rows row-indices][survivors empty]) + (cond + [(vector-empty? rows) (list->vector (reverse survivors))] + [else + (define challenger-row (vector-ref rows 0)) + (cond + ;; no survivors yet, so push first row and keep going + [(empty? survivors) (find-survivors (vector-cdr rows) (cons challenger-row survivors))] + [else + (define index-of-last-survivor (sub1 (length survivors))) + (define col-head (vector-ref col-indices index-of-last-survivor)) + (define-syntax-rule (test-function r) (value->integer (matrix-proc r col-head))) + (cond + ;; this is the challenge: is the head cell of challenger a new minimum? + ;; use < not <=, so the recorded winner is the earliest row with the new minimum, not the latest row + ;; if yes, challenger wins. pop element from stack, and let challenger try again (= leave rows alone) + [(< (test-function challenger-row) (test-function (car survivors))) (find-survivors rows (cdr survivors))] + + ;; if not, challenger lost. + ;; If we're in the last column, ignore the loser by recurring on the same values + [(= col-head (vector-last col-indices)) (find-survivors (vector-cdr rows) survivors)] + + ;; otherwise challenger lost and we're not in last column, + ;; so add challenger to survivor stack + [else (find-survivors (vector-cdr rows) (cons challenger-row survivors))])])]))) + + + +(define (make-minimum value row-idx) + (define ht (make-hash)) + (! ht 'value value) + (! ht 'row-idx row-idx) + ht) + +;; Interpolate phase: in the minima hash, add results for even rows + +(define-syntax-rule (vector-last v) + (vector-ref v (sub1 (vector-length v)))) + +(define (interpolate minima row-indices col-indices matrix-proc value->integer) + ;(hash? vector? vector? procedure? procedure? . -> . hash?) + (for ([col-idx (in-range 0 (vector-length col-indices) 2)]) ;; even-col-indices + (define col (vector-ref col-indices col-idx)) + (define idx-of-last-row + (if (= col-idx (sub1 (vector-length col-indices))) + (vector-last row-indices) + (: (hash-ref minima (vector-ref col-indices (add1 col-idx))) 'row-idx))) + + (define smallest-value-entry + (vector-argmin (compose1 value->integer car) + (for/vector ([row-idx (in-list (dropf-right (vector->list row-indices) (negate (curry = idx-of-last-row))))]) + (list (matrix-proc row-idx col) row-idx)))) + + (! minima col (apply make-minimum smallest-value-entry))) + minima) + +(define (interpolate2 minima row-indices col-indices matrix-proc value->integer) + (define idx-of-last-col (sub1 (vector-length col-indices))) + (define (smallest-value-entry col idx-of-last-row) + (argmin (compose1 value->integer car) + (for/list ([row-idx (stop-after (in-vector row-indices) (curry = idx-of-last-row))]) + (list (matrix-proc row-idx col) row-idx)))) + + (for ([(col col-idx) (in-indexed col-indices)] #:when (even? col-idx)) + (define idx-of-last-row (if (= col-idx idx-of-last-col) + (vector-last row-indices) + (: (hash-ref minima (vector-ref col-indices (add1 col-idx))) 'row-idx))) + (! minima col (apply make-minimum (smallest-value-entry col idx-of-last-row)))) + minima) + + +#| + Search for the minimum value in each column of a matrix. + The return value is a dictionary mapping ColIndices to pairs + (value,rowindex). We break ties in favor of earlier rows. + + The matrix is defined implicitly as a function, passed + as the third argument to this routine, where Matrix(i,j) + gives the matrix value at row index i and column index j. + The matrix must be concave, that is, satisfy the property + Matrix(i,j) > Matrix(i',j) => Matrix(i,j') > Matrix(i',j') + for every iinteger identity]) + ;((vector?) ((or/c #f vector?) procedure? procedure?) . ->* . hash?) + (define reduce-proc reduce2) + (define interpolate-proc interpolate2) + (if (= 0 (vector-length col-indices)) + (make-hash) + (let ([row-indices (reduce-proc row-indices col-indices matrix-proc value->integer)]) + (define odd-column-minima (concave-minima row-indices (vector-odd-elements col-indices) matrix-proc value->integer)) + (interpolate-proc odd-column-minima row-indices col-indices matrix-proc value->integer)))) + + +#| + Online concave minimization algorithm of Galil and Park. + + OnlineConcaveMinima(Matrix,initial) creates a sequence of pairs + (self.value(j),self.index(j)), where + self.value(0) = initial, + self.value(j) = min { Matrix(i,j) | i < j } for j > 0, + and where self.index(j) is the value of j that provides the minimum. + Matrix(i,j) must be concave, in the same sense as for ConcaveMinima. + + We never call Matrix(i,j) until value(i) has already been computed, + so that the Matrix function may examine previously computed values. + Calling value(i) for an i that has not yet been computed forces + the sequence to be continued until the desired index is reached. + Calling iter(self) produces a sequence of (value,index) pairs. + + Matrix(i,j) should always return a value, rather than raising an + exception, even for j larger than the range we expect to compute. + If j is out of range, a suitable value to return that will not + violate concavity is Matrix(i,j) = -i. It will not work correctly + to return a flag value such as None for large j, because the ties + formed by the equalities among such flags may violate concavity. +|# + +;; Online Concave Minima object +;(struct $ocm (values indices finished matrix-proc base tentative) #:transparent #:mutable) + +;; State used by self.value(), self.index(), and iter(self) = +;; $ocm-values, $ocm-indices, $ocm-finished + +#| +State used by the internal algorithm: +$ocm-matrix, $ocm-base, $ocm-tentative + +We allow self._values to be nonempty for indices > finished, +keeping invariant that +(1) self._values[i] = Matrix(self._indices[i], i), +(2) if the eventual correct value of self.index(i) < base, + then self._values[i] is nonempty and correct. + +In addition, we keep a column index self._tentative, such that +(3) if i <= tentative, and the eventual correct value of + self.index(i) <= finished, then self._values[i] is correct. +|# + +(define no-value 'none) + +(define-syntax-rule (: hashtable key) + (hash-ref hashtable key)) + +(define-syntax-rule (! hashtable key value) + (hash-set! hashtable key value)) + +(define (make-ocm matrix-proc [initial-value 0][value->integer identity]) + (log-ocm-debug "making new ocm") + (define ocm (make-hash)) + (! ocm 'min-values (vector initial-value)) + (! ocm 'min-row-indices (vector no-value)) + (! ocm 'finished 0) + (! ocm 'matrix-proc (make-caching-proc matrix-proc)) + (! ocm 'value->integer value->integer) ; for converting matrix values to an integer + (! ocm 'base 0) + (! ocm 'tentative 0) + ocm) + + +;; Return min { Matrix(i,j) | i < j }. +(define (min-value ocm j) + (if (< (: ocm 'finished) j) + (begin (advance! ocm) (min-value ocm j)) + (vector-ref (: ocm 'min-values) j))) + +;; Return argmin { Matrix(i,j) | i < j }. +(define (min-index ocm j) + (if (< (: ocm 'finished) j) + (begin (advance! ocm) (min-index ocm j)) + (vector-ref (: ocm 'min-row-indices) j))) + +;; Finish another value,index pair. +(define (advance! ocm) + (define next (add1 (: ocm 'finished))) + (log-ocm-debug "advance! ocm to next = ~a" (add1 (: ocm 'finished))) + (cond + ;; First case: we have already advanced past the previous tentative + ;; value. We make a new tentative value by applying ConcaveMinima + ;; to the largest square submatrix that fits under the base. + [(> next (: ocm 'tentative)) + (log-ocm-debug "advance: first case because next (~a) > tentative (~a)" next (: ocm 'tentative)) + (define rows (list->vector (range (: ocm 'base) next))) + (! ocm 'tentative (+ (: ocm 'finished) (vector-length rows))) + (define cols (list->vector (range next (add1 (: ocm 'tentative))))) + (define minima (concave-minima rows cols (: ocm 'matrix-proc) (: ocm 'value->integer))) + (for ([col (in-vector cols)]) + (cond + [(>= col (vector-length (: ocm 'min-values))) + (! ocm 'min-values (vector-append-item (: ocm 'min-values) (: (: minima col) 'value))) + (! ocm 'min-row-indices (vector-append-item (: ocm 'min-row-indices) (: (: minima col) 'row-idx)))] + [(< ((: ocm 'value->integer) (: (: minima col) 'value)) ((: ocm 'value->integer) (vector-ref (: ocm 'min-values) col))) + (! ocm 'min-values (vector-set (: ocm 'min-values) col (: (: minima col) 'value))) + (! ocm 'min-row-indices (vector-set (: ocm 'min-row-indices) col (: (: minima col) 'row-idx)))])) + (! ocm 'finished next)] + + [else + ;; Second case: the new column minimum is on the diagonal. + ;; All subsequent ones will be at least as low, + ;; so we can clear out all our work from higher rows. + ;; As in the fourth case, the loss of tentative is + ;; amortized against the increase in base. + (define diag ((: ocm 'matrix-proc) (sub1 next) next)) + (cond + [(< ((: ocm 'value->integer) diag) ((: ocm 'value->integer) (vector-ref (: ocm 'min-values) next))) + (log-ocm-debug "advance: second case because column minimum is on the diagonal") + (! ocm 'min-values (vector-set (: ocm 'min-values) next diag)) + (! ocm 'min-row-indices (vector-set (: ocm 'min-row-indices) next (sub1 next))) + (! ocm 'base (sub1 next)) + (! ocm 'tentative next) + (! ocm 'finished next)] + + ;; Third case: row i-1 does not supply a column minimum in + ;; any column up to tentative. We simply advance finished + ;; while maintaining the invariant. + [(>= ((: ocm 'value->integer) ((: ocm 'matrix-proc) (sub1 next) (: ocm 'tentative))) + ((: ocm 'value->integer) (vector-ref (: ocm 'min-values) (: ocm 'tentative)))) + (log-ocm-debug "advance: third case because row i-1 does not suppply a column minimum") + (! ocm 'finished next)] + + ;; Fourth and final case: a new column minimum at self._tentative. + ;; This allows us to make progress by incorporating rows + ;; prior to finished into the base. The base invariant holds + ;; because these rows cannot supply any later column minima. + ;; The work done when we last advanced tentative (and undone by + ;; this step) can be amortized against the increase in base. + [else + (log-ocm-debug "advance: fourth case because new column minimum") + (! ocm 'base (sub1 next)) + (! ocm 'tentative next) + (! ocm 'finished next)])])) + +(define (print ocm) + (displayln (: ocm 'min-values)) + (displayln (: ocm 'min-row-indices))) + +(define (smawky? m) + (define (position-of-minimum xs) + ;; put each element together with its list index + (let ([xs (map cons (range (length xs)) xs)]) + ;; find the first one with the min value, and grab the list index + (car (argmin cdr (filter (compose1 not negative? cdr) xs))))) + ;; tests if penalty matrix is monotone for non-negative values. + (define increasing-minima? (apply <= (map position-of-minimum m))) + (define monotone? + (for*/and ([ridx (in-range 1 (length m))] + [cidx (in-range (sub1 (length (car m))))]) + (let* ([prev-row (list-ref m (sub1 ridx))] + [row (list-ref m ridx)] + [a (list-ref prev-row cidx)] + [b (list-ref prev-row (add1 cidx))] + [c (list-ref row cidx)] + [d (list-ref row (add1 cidx))]) + (if (andmap (compose1 not negative?) (list a b c d)) ;; smawk disregards negative values + (cond + [(< c d) (if (< a b) #t (error (format "Submatrix ~a not monotone in ~a" (list (list a b) (list c d)) m)))] + [(= c d) (if (<= a b) #t (error (format "Submatrix ~a not monotone in ~a" (list (list a b) (list c d)) m)))] + [else #t]) + #t)))) + (and increasing-minima? monotone?)) + + +(module+ test + + (require rackunit) + + + (define m '((25 42 57 78 90 103 123 142 151) + (21 35 48 65 76 85 105 123 130) + (13 26 35 51 58 67 86 100 104) + (10 20 28 42 48 56 75 86 88) + (20 29 33 44 49 55 73 82 80) + (13 21 24 35 39 44 59 65 59) + (19 25 28 38 42 44 57 61 52) + (35 37 40 48 48 49 62 62 49) + (37 36 37 42 39 39 51 50 37) + (41 39 37 42 35 33 44 43 29) + (58 56 54 55 47 41 50 47 29) + (66 64 61 61 51 44 52 45 24) + (82 76 72 70 56 49 55 46 23) + (99 91 83 80 63 56 59 46 20) + (124 116 107 100 80 71 72 58 28) + (133 125 113 106 86 75 74 59 25) + (156 146 131 120 97 84 80 65 31) + (178 164 146 135 110 96 92 73 39))) + (define m2 (apply map list m)) + (check-true (smawky? m)) + (check-true (smawky? m2)) + ;; proc must return a value even for out-of-bounds i and j + (define (simple-proc i j) (with-handlers [(exn:fail? (λ(exn) (* -1 i)))] + (list-ref (list-ref m i) j))) + (define (simple-proc2 i j) (with-handlers [(exn:fail? (λ(exn) (* -1 i)))] + (list-ref (list-ref m2 i) j))) + (check-equal? (simple-proc 0 2) 57) ; 0th row, 2nd col + (check-equal? (simple-proc2 2 0) 57) ; flipped + (define o (make-ocm simple-proc)) + (define row-indices (list->vector (range (length m)))) + (define col-indices (list->vector (range (length (car m))))) + (define result (concave-minima row-indices col-indices simple-proc identity)) + (check-equal? + (for/list ([j (in-vector col-indices)]) + (define h (hash-ref result j)) + (list (hash-ref h 'value) (hash-ref h 'row-idx))) + '((10 3) (20 3) (24 5) (35 5) (35 9) (33 9) (44 9) (43 9) (20 13))) ; checked against SMAWK.py + (check-equal? + (for/list ([j (in-vector col-indices)]) + (list (min-value o j) (min-index o j))) + '((0 none) (42 0) (48 1) (51 2) (48 3) (55 4) (59 5) (61 6) (49 7))) ; checked against SMAWK.py + + (define o2 (make-ocm simple-proc2)) + (define row-indices2 (list->vector (range (length m2)))) + (define col-indices2 (list->vector (range (length (car m2))))) + (define result2 (concave-minima row-indices2 col-indices2 simple-proc2 identity)) + (check-equal? + (for/list ([j (in-vector col-indices2)]) + (define h (hash-ref result2 j)) + (list (hash-ref h 'value) (hash-ref h 'row-idx))) + '((25 0) (21 0) (13 0) (10 0) (20 0) (13 0) (19 0) (35 0) (36 1) (29 8) (29 8) (24 8) (23 8) (20 8) (28 8) (25 8) (31 8) (39 8))) ; checked against SMAWK.py + (check-equal? + (for/list ([j (in-vector col-indices2)]) + (list (min-value o2 j) (min-index o2 j))) + '((0 none) (21 0) (13 0) (10 0) (20 0) (13 0) (19 0) (35 0) (36 1) (29 8) (-9 9) (-10 10) (-11 11) (-12 12) (-13 13) (-14 14) (-15 15) (-16 16))) ; checked against SMAWK.py + + ) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/py/SMAWK.py b/quad/py/SMAWK.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0bf770e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/py/SMAWK.py @@ -0,0 +1,192 @@ +"""SMAWK.py + +Totally monotone matrix searching algorithms. + +The offline algorithm in ConcaveMinima is from Agarwal, Klawe, Moran, +Shor, and Wilbur, Geometric applications of a matrix searching algorithm, +Algorithmica 2, pp. 195-208 (1987). + +The online algorithm in OnlineConcaveMinima is from Galil and Park, +A linear time algorithm for concave one-dimensional dynamic programming, +manuscript, 1989, which simplifies earlier work on the same problem +by Wilbur (J. Algorithms 1988) and Eppstein (J. Algorithms 1990). + +D. Eppstein, March 2002, significantly revised August 2005 +""" + +def ConcaveMinima(RowIndices,ColIndices,Matrix): + """ + Search for the minimum value in each column of a matrix. + The return value is a dictionary mapping ColIndices to pairs + (value,rowindex). We break ties in favor of earlier rows. + + The matrix is defined implicitly as a function, passed + as the third argument to this routine, where Matrix(i,j) + gives the matrix value at row index i and column index j. + The matrix must be concave, that is, satisfy the property + Matrix(i,j) > Matrix(i',j) => Matrix(i,j') > Matrix(i',j') + for every i= 1 and \ + Matrix(stack[-1], ColIndices[len(stack)-1]) \ + > Matrix(r, ColIndices[len(stack)-1]): + stack.pop() + if len(stack) != len(ColIndices): + stack.append(r) + RowIndices = stack + + # Recursive call to search for every odd column + minima = ConcaveMinima(RowIndices, + [ColIndices[i] for i in range(1,len(ColIndices),2)], + Matrix) + + # Go back and fill in the even rows + r = 0 + for c in range(0,len(ColIndices),2): + col = ColIndices[c] + row = RowIndices[r] + if c == len(ColIndices) - 1: + lastrow = RowIndices[-1] + else: + lastrow = minima[ColIndices[c+1]][1] + pair = (Matrix(row,col),row) + while row != lastrow: + r += 1 + row = RowIndices[r] + pair = min(pair,(Matrix(row,col),row)) + minima[col] = pair + + return minima + +class OnlineConcaveMinima: + """ + Online concave minimization algorithm of Galil and Park. + + OnlineConcaveMinima(Matrix,initial) creates a sequence of pairs + (self.value(j),self.index(j)), where + self.value(0) = initial, + self.value(j) = min { Matrix(i,j) | i < j } for j > 0, + and where self.index(j) is the value of j that provides the minimum. + Matrix(i,j) must be concave, in the same sense as for ConcaveMinima. + + We never call Matrix(i,j) until value(i) has already been computed, + so that the Matrix function may examine previously computed values. + Calling value(i) for an i that has not yet been computed forces + the sequence to be continued until the desired index is reached. + Calling iter(self) produces a sequence of (value,index) pairs. + + Matrix(i,j) should always return a value, rather than raising an + exception, even for j larger than the range we expect to compute. + If j is out of range, a suitable value to return that will not + violate concavity is Matrix(i,j) = -i. It will not work correctly + to return a flag value such as None for large j, because the ties + formed by the equalities among such flags may violate concavity. + """ + + def __init__(self,Matrix,initial): + """Initialize a OnlineConcaveMinima object.""" + + # State used by self.value(), self.index(), and iter(self) + self._values = [initial] # tentative solution values... + self._indices = [None] # ...and their indices + self._finished = 0 # index of last non-tentative value + + # State used by the internal algorithm + # + # We allow self._values to be nonempty for indices > finished, + # keeping invariant that + # (1) self._values[i] = Matrix(self._indices[i], i), + # (2) if the eventual correct value of self.index(i) < base, + # then self._values[i] is nonempty and correct. + # + # In addition, we keep a column index self._tentative, such that + # (3) if i <= tentative, and the eventual correct value of + # self.index(i) <= finished, then self._values[i] is correct. + # + self._matrix = Matrix + self._base = 0 + self._tentative = 0 + + def __str__(self): + return "%s" % self._values + + def __iter__(self): + """Loop through (value,index) pairs.""" + i = 0 + while True: + yield self.value(i),self.index(i) + i += 1 + + def value(self,j): + """Return min { Matrix(i,j) | i < j }.""" + while self._finished < j: + self._advance() + return self._values[j] + + def index(self,j): + """Return argmin { Matrix(i,j) | i < j }.""" + while self._finished < j: + self._advance() + return self._indices[j] + + def _advance(self): + """Finish another value,index pair.""" + # First case: we have already advanced past the previous tentative + # value. We make a new tentative value by applying ConcaveMinima + # to the largest square submatrix that fits under the base. + i = self._finished + 1 + if i > self._tentative: + rows = range(self._base,self._finished+1) + self._tentative = self._finished+len(rows) + cols = range(self._finished+1,self._tentative+1) + minima = ConcaveMinima(rows,cols,self._matrix) + for col in cols: + if col >= len(self._values): + self._values.append(minima[col][0]) + self._indices.append(minima[col][1]) + elif minima[col][0] < self._values[col]: + self._values[col],self._indices[col] = minima[col] + self._finished = i + return + + # Second case: the new column minimum is on the diagonal. + # All subsequent ones will be at least as low, + # so we can clear out all our work from higher rows. + # As in the fourth case, the loss of tentative is + # amortized against the increase in base. + diag = self._matrix(i-1,i) + if diag < self._values[i]: + self._values[i] = diag + self._indices[i] = self._base = i-1 + self._tentative = self._finished = i + return + + # Third case: row i-1 does not supply a column minimum in + # any column up to tentative. We simply advance finished + # while maintaining the invariant. + if self._matrix(i-1,self._tentative) >= self._values[self._tentative]: + self._finished = i + return + + # Fourth and final case: a new column minimum at self._tentative. + # This allows us to make progress by incorporating rows + # prior to finished into the base. The base invariant holds + # because these rows cannot supply any later column minima. + # The work done when we last advanced tentative (and undone by + # this step) can be amortized against the increase in base. + self._base = i-1 + self._tentative = self._finished = i + return \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/py/SMAWK.pyc b/quad/py/SMAWK.pyc new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1ccfb4ef Binary files /dev/null and b/quad/py/SMAWK.pyc differ diff --git a/quad/py/smawktest.py b/quad/py/smawktest.py new file mode 100644 index 00000000..cba897a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/py/smawktest.py @@ -0,0 +1,66 @@ +import SMAWK + +m1 = [ +[25, 42, 57, 78, 90, 103, 123, 142, 151], +[21, 35, 48, 65, 76, 85, 105, 123, 130], +[13, 26, 35, 51, 58, 67, 86, 100, 104], +[10, 20, 28, 42, 48, 56, 75, 86, 88], +[20, 29, 33, 44, 49, 55, 73, 82, 80], +[13, 21, 24, 35, 39, 44, 59, 65, 59], +[19, 25, 28, 38, 42, 44, 57, 61, 52], +[35, 37, 40, 48, 48, 49, 62, 62, 49], +[37, 36, 37, 42, 39, 39, 51, 50, 37], +[41, 39, 37, 42, 35, 33, 44, 43, 29], +[58, 56, 54, 55, 47, 41, 50, 47, 29], +[66, 64, 61, 61, 51, 44, 52, 45, 24], +[82, 76, 72, 70, 56, 49, 55, 46, 23], +[99, 91, 83, 80, 63, 56, 59, 46, 20], +[124, 116, 107, 100, 80, 71, 72, 58, 28], +[133, 125, 113, 106, 86, 75, 74, 59, 25], +[156, 146, 131, 120, 97, 84, 80, 65, 31], +[178, 164, 146, 135, 110, 96, 92, 73, 39]] + + +num_rows = len(m1) +row_indices = range(num_rows) +num_cols = len(m1[0]) +col_indices = range(num_cols) + + +def matrix_func1(i, j): + try: + return m1[i][j] + except: + return -1 * i + +def matrix_func2(i, j): + try: + return m1[j][i] + except: + return -1 * i + + +cm_hash = SMAWK.ConcaveMinima(row_indices, col_indices, matrix_func1) +cm_hash2 = SMAWK.ConcaveMinima(col_indices, row_indices, matrix_func2) + +print cm_hash2 + +''' +{0: (10, 3), 1: (20, 3), 2: (24, 5), 3: (35, 5), 4: (35, 9), 5: (33, 9), 6: (44, 9), 7: (43, 9), 8: (20, 13)} +''' + +ocm = SMAWK.OnlineConcaveMinima(matrix_func1, 0) +ocm2 = SMAWK.OnlineConcaveMinima(matrix_func2, 0) + +ocm_hash = dict() +for j in col_indices: + ocm_hash[j] = (ocm.value(j), ocm.index(j)) + +ocm_hash2 = dict() +for j in row_indices: + ocm_hash2[j] = (ocm2.value(j), ocm2.index(j)) + +print ocm_hash2 + +''' +{0: (0, None), 1: (42, 0), 2: (48, 1), 3: (51, 2), 4: (48, 3), 5: (55, 4), 6: (59, 5), 7: (61, 6), 8: (49, 7)}''' \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/quads.rkt b/quad/quads.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..caa2fb6f --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/quads.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,241 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require (for-syntax racket/base racket/syntax racket/string) racket/string racket/contract racket/serialize sugar/list racket/format racket/list sugar/debug sugar/coerce racket/bool racket/function sugar/string) +(require "world.rkt") +(provide (all-defined-out)) + +;; struct implementation + +(serializable-struct quad (name attrs list) #:transparent + #:methods gen:custom-write + [(define write-proc (λ(b port mode) + (display (format "(~a)" (string-join (filter-not void? (list + (~a (quad-name b)) + (if (and (hash? (quad-attrs b)) (> (length (hash-keys (quad-attrs b))) 0)) (~v (flatten (hash->list (quad-attrs b)))) (void)) + (if (> (length (quad-list b)) 0) (~a (string-join (map ~v (quad-list b)) "")) (void)))) " ")) port)))] + #:property prop:sequence (λ(q) (quad-list q))) + + + +;; vector implementation +#| +(define (quad-name q) (vector-ref q 0)) +(define (quad-attrs q) (vector-ref q 1)) +(define (quad-list q) (vector-ref q 2)) + +(define (quad? x) + (and (vector? x) + (symbol? (quad-name x)) + (or (false? (quad-attrs x)) (hash? (quad-attrs x))) + (list? (quad-list x)))) + +(define (quad name attrs xs) + (vector name attrs xs)) +|# +;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; + +;; hash implementation +#| +(define (quad-name q) (hash-ref q 'name)) +(define (quad-attrs q) (hash-ref q 'attrs)) +(define (quad-list q) (hash-ref q 'list)) + +(define (quad? x) + (and (hash? x) + (andmap (λ(k) (hash-has-key? x k)) (list 'name 'attrs 'list)) + (symbol? (quad-name x)) + (ormap (λ(pred) (pred (quad-attrs x))) (list false? hash?)) + (list? (quad-list x)))) + +(define (quad name attrs xs) + (hash 'name name 'attrs attrs 'list xs)) +|# + +;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; + +(define (quad-name? x) (symbol? x)) +(define (hashable-list? x) (and (list? x) (even? (length x)))) +(define (quad-attrs? x) (or (false? x) (hash? x))) +(define (quad-list? x) (and (list? x) (andmap (λ(xi) (or (quad? xi) (string? xi))) x))) +(define (quads? x) (and (list? x) (andmap quad? x))) +(define (lists-of-quads? x) (and (list? x) (andmap quads? x))) + +(define quad= equal?) + +(define token? quad?) + +(define (quad/c x) (λ(x) (and (quad? x) (symbol? (quad-name x)) (hash? (quad-attrs x)) + (andmap (λ(xi) (or (quad/c xi) (string? xi))) (quad-list x))))) + +(define quad-attr-ref + (case-lambda + [(q key) + (if (quad-attrs q) + (hash-ref (quad-attrs q) key) + (error 'quad-attr-ref (format "no attrs in quad ~a" q)))] + [(q key default) + (if (quad-attrs q) + (hash-ref (quad-attrs q) key default) + default)])) + +(define-syntax (quad-attr-ref/parameter stx) + (syntax-case stx () + [(_ q key) + (with-syntax ([world:key-default (format-id stx "~a-default" (string-trim (symbol->string (syntax->datum #'key)) "-key"))]) + #'(quad-attr-ref q key (world:key-default)))])) + + +(define (quad-has-attr? q key) + (define qa (quad-attrs q)) + (and qa (hash-has-key? qa key))) + +(define-syntax (define-quad-list-function stx) + (syntax-case stx () + [(_ proc) + (with-syntax ([quad-proc (format-id stx "quad-~a" #'proc)]) + #'(define (quad-proc q) (proc (quad-list q))))])) + +(define-quad-list-function first) +(define-quad-list-function car) +(define-quad-list-function cdr) +(define-quad-list-function last) +(define (quad-cons item q) + (quad (quad-name q) (quad-attrs q) (cons item (quad-list q)))) + +(define-syntax-rule (quad-ref q r) + (list-ref (quad-list q) r)) + +(define/contract (quad-ends-with? q str) + (quad? string? . -> . boolean?) + (cond + [(not (empty? (quad-list q))) + (define last-item (last (quad-list q))) + (cond + [(string? last-item) (ends-with? last-item str)] + [(quad? last-item) (quad-ends-with? last-item str)])] + [else #f])) + + +(define/contract (quad-append q new-item) + (quad? (or/c quad? string?) . -> . quad?) + (quad (quad-name q) (quad-attrs q) (append (quad-list q) (list new-item)))) + +(define/contract (quad->string x) + (quad? . -> . string?) + (cond + [(quad? x) (string-append* (map quad->string (quad-list x)))] + [(string? x) x] + [else ""])) + +(define-syntax-rule (report-quadstring q) + (begin + (report (quad->string q) 'q) + q)) + +(define cannot-be-common-attrs '(width x y page)) ;; todo: how to specify these better? this-* prefix? + +;; make this a macro because qs-in is often huge +;; and the macro avoids allocation + garbage collection +(define-syntax-rule (gather-common-attrs qs-in) + (let ([qs qs-in]) + (and (quad-attrs (car qs)) + (let ([attr-missing (gensym)]) + (let loop ([qs (cdr qs)] + [common-attrs (for/list ([kv-pair (in-hash-pairs (quad-attrs (car qs)))] + #:unless (member (car kv-pair) cannot-be-common-attrs)) + kv-pair)]) + (cond + [(empty? common-attrs) #f] + [(empty? qs) (flatten common-attrs)] + [else (define reference-quad (car qs)) + (loop (cdr qs) + (filter (λ(ca) (let ([v (quad-attr-ref reference-quad (car ca) attr-missing)]) + (equal? v (cdr ca)))) + common-attrs))])))))) + + +(define-syntax (define-box-type stx) + (syntax-case stx () + [(_ id) + (with-syntax ([id? (format-id #'id "~a?" #'id)] + [ids? (format-id #'id "~as?" #'id)] + [lists-of-ids? (format-id #'id "list-of-~as?" #'id)] + [quads->id (format-id #'id "quads->~a" #'id)] + [inline/quads->id (format-id #'id "inline/quads->~a" #'id)]) + #'(begin + ;; quad predicate - ok to be relaxed here if we're strict when making the struct + (define (id? x) + (and (quad? x) (equal? (quad-name x) 'id))) + ;; quad constructor + ;; put contract here rather than on struct, because this is the main interface + ;; and this contract is more liberal. + ;; but don't put a separate contract on struct, because it's superfluous. + (define/contract (id [attrs #f] . xs) + (() ((or/c quad-attrs? hashable-list?)) #:rest quad-list? . ->* . id?) + (quad 'id (and attrs (if (hash? attrs) attrs (apply hash attrs))) xs)) + ;; quad list predicate and list-of-list predicate. + ;; These are faster than the listof contract combinator. + (define (ids? x) + (and (list? x) (andmap id? x))) + (define (lists-of-ids? x) + (and (list? x) (andmap ids? x))) + ;; quad converter macro + (define (quads->id qs) + (apply id (gather-common-attrs qs) qs))))])) + + +;; do not treat empty string as whitespace. +;; throws off tests that rely on adjacency to positive whitespace. +(define/contract (whitespace? x [nbsp? #f]) + ((any/c)(boolean?) . ->* . coerce/boolean?) + (cond + [(quad? x) (whitespace? (quad-list x) nbsp?)] + [(string? x) (or (and (regexp-match #px"\\p{Zs}" x) ; Zs = unicode whitespace category + (or nbsp? (not (regexp-match #px"\u00a0" x)))))] ; 00a0: nbsp + [(list? x) (and (not (empty? x)) (andmap (curryr whitespace? nbsp?) x))] ; andmap returns #t for empty lists + [else #f])) + +(define (whitespace/nbsp? x) + (whitespace? x #t)) + + +(define-syntax (define-break-type stx) + (syntax-case stx () + [(_ id) + (with-syntax ([split-on-id-breaks (format-id #'id "split-on-~a-breaks" #'id)] + [id-break (format-id #'id "~a-break" #'id)] + [id-break? (format-id #'id "~a-break?" #'id)] + [multi-id (format-id #'id "multi~a" #'id)] + [multi-id? (format-id #'id "multi~a?" #'id)] + [quads->multi-id (format-id #'id "quads->multi~a" #'id)]) + #'(begin + (define-box-type id) + (define-box-type id-break) + (define-box-type multi-id) + ;; breaker + (define/contract (split-on-id-breaks x) + (quads? . -> . lists-of-quads?) + ;; omit leading & trailing whitespace, because they're superfluous next to a break + (map (curryr trimf whitespace?) (filter-split x id-break?)))))])) + +(define-box-type box) + +(define-break-type word) +(define (word-string c) (car (quad-list c))) + +(define-box-type spacer) +(define-box-type kern) +(define-box-type optical-kern) +(define-box-type flag) +(define-box-type doc) +(define-box-type input) +(define-box-type piece) +(define-box-type run) + +(define-break-type page) +(define-break-type column) +(define-break-type block) +(define-break-type line) + +(define (->input q) (input #f q)) +(define coerce/input? (make-coercion-contract input)) + diff --git a/quad/render.rkt b/quad/render.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b2dc2c36 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/render.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,105 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require racket/class racket/contract sugar/debug sugar/cache racket/list racket/file racket/draw data/gvector) +(require "utils.rkt" "quads.rkt" "world.rkt") +(provide (all-defined-out)) + +(define/contract abstract-renderer% + (class/c [render (quad? . ->m . any/c)] + [render-element (quad? . ->m . quad?)]) + + (class object% + (super-new) + + (define renderable-quads '(word box)) + + ;; hash implementation + (define/public (render0 doc-quad) + (finalize + (let ([rendering-input (flatten-quad (setup doc-quad))]) + (define page-quad-hash (make-hash)) + (for ([q (in-list rendering-input)]) + (when (member (quad-name q) renderable-quads) + (hash-update! page-quad-hash (quad-attr-ref q world:page-key) (λ(v) (cons q v)) null))) + (map (λ(k) (render-page (hash-ref page-quad-hash k))) (sort (hash-keys page-quad-hash) <))))) + + + ;; gvector implementation + (define/public (render doc-quad) + (finalize + (let ([rendering-input (flatten-quad (setup doc-quad))]) + (define page-quad-vector (make-gvector)) + (for ([q (in-list rendering-input)] #:when (member (quad-name q) renderable-quads)) + (define p (quad-attr-ref q world:page-key)) + (gvector-set! page-quad-vector p (cons q (gvector-ref page-quad-vector p null)))) + (for/list ([pq (in-gvector page-quad-vector)]) + (render-page pq))))) + + + (define/public (render-element q) + (cond + [(word? q) (render-word q)] + [else q])) + + (define/public (setup q) q) + (abstract render-page) + (abstract render-word) + (define/public (finalize q) q))) + + +(define-syntax-rule (map/send method xs) + (map (λ(x) (method x)) xs)) + +(define pdf-renderer% + (class abstract-renderer% + (super-new) + + (send* (current-ps-setup) (set-margin 0 0) (set-scaling 1.0 1.0)) + (define dc-output-port (open-output-bytes)) + (define dc (new pdf-dc% [interactive #f][use-paper-bbox #f][as-eps #f] + [output dc-output-port] + [width (world:paper-width-default)][height (world:paper-height-default)])) + + (define/override (setup tx) + (send* dc + (start-doc "boing") + (set-pen "black" 1 'solid) + (set-brush "black" 'transparent)) ; no fill by default + tx) + + (inherit render-element) + + (define/caching (make-font/caching font size style weight) + (make-font #:face font #:size size #:style style #:weight weight)) + + (define/override-final (render-word w) + (define word-font (quad-attr-ref/parameter w world:font-name-key)) + (define word-size (quad-attr-ref/parameter w world:font-size-key)) + (define word-style (quad-attr-ref/parameter w world:font-style-key)) + (define word-weight (quad-attr-ref/parameter w world:font-weight-key)) + (define word-color (quad-attr-ref/parameter w world:font-color-key)) + (define word-background (quad-attr-ref/parameter w world:font-background-key)) + (send dc set-font (make-font/caching word-font word-size word-style word-weight)) + (send dc set-text-foreground (send the-color-database find-color word-color)) + (define background-color (send the-color-database find-color word-background)) + (if background-color ; all invalid color-string values will return #f + (send* dc (set-text-mode 'solid) (set-text-background background-color)) + (send dc set-text-mode 'transparent)) + + (define word-text (quad-car w)) + (send dc draw-text word-text (quad-attr-ref w world:x-position-key) + ;; we want to align by baseline rather than top of box + ;; thus, subtract ascent from y to put baseline at the y coordinate + (- (quad-attr-ref w world:y-position-key) (quad-attr-ref w world:ascent-key 0)) #t)) + + (define/override-final (render-page elements) + (send dc start-page) + (map/send render-element (filter-not whitespace/nbsp? elements)) + (send dc end-page)) + + (define/override-final (finalize xs) + (send dc end-doc) + (get-output-bytes dc-output-port)) + + (define/public (render-to-file doc-quad path) + (define result-bytes (send this render doc-quad)) + (display-to-file result-bytes path #:exists 'replace #:mode 'binary)))) diff --git a/quad/samples.rkt b/quad/samples.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..6a6f4a39 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/samples.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,28 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require "quads.rkt" racket/file racket/string racket/function racket/list) +(provide (all-defined-out)) + +;(define ti (block '(measure 54 leading 18) "Meg is an ally.")) +(define (ti2) (block '(leading 10 measure 400 size 13 x-align left x-align-last-line left font "Equity Text B") (block #f "Foo-d" (word '(size 13) "og ") "and " (box) "Zu" (word-break '(nb "c" bb "k-")) "kerman’s. Instead of a circle, the result is a picture of the code that, if it were used as an expression, would produce a circle. In other words, code is not a function, but instead a " (block '(style italic) "new syntactic form") " for creating pictures; the bit between the opening " (block '(weight bold) "parenthesis") " with code is not an expression, but instead manipulated by the code syntactic form. " (word '(font "Triplicate T4" size 22.5 color "Orchid" background "Yellow") "Bangazoom!") " This helps explain what we meant in the previous section when we said that racket provides require and the function-calling syntax.") (block-break) (block #f "Libraries are not restricted to exporting values, such as functions; they can also define new syntactic forms. In this sense, Racket isn’t exactly a language at all; it’s more of an idea for how to structure a language so that you can extend it or create entirely new ones."))) + +(define (ti3) (block '(measure 54 leading 18) "Meg is an ally.")) + +(define (ti4) (block '(measure 300 x-align justify x-align-last-line right leading 18) "In this Madagascarian hoo-ha, Racket isn’t exactly a language at all")) + + +(define (ti5) (block '(measure 240 font "Equity Text B" leading 16 size 13.5 x-align justify x-align-last-line left) (box '(width 15)) (block #f (block '(weight bold font "Equity Caps B") "Hotdogs, My Fellow Americans.") " This " (block '(no-break #t) "is some truly") " bullshit generated from my typesetting system, which is called Quad. I’m writing this in a source file in DrRacket. When I click [Run], a PDF pops out. Not bad\u200a—\u200aand no LaTeX needed. Quad, however, does use the fancy linebreaking algorithm developed for TeX. (It also includes a faster linebreaking algorithm for when speed is more important than quality.) Of course, it can also handle " (block '(font "Triplicate C4") "different fonts,") (block '(style italic) " styles, ") (word '(size 14 weight bold) "and sizes-") " within the same line. As you can see, it can also justify paragraphs." (block-break) (box '(width 15)) (block #f "“Each horizontal row represents an OS-level thread, and the colored dots represent important events in the execution of the program (they are color-coded to distinguish one event type from another). The upper-left blue dot in the timeline represents the future’s creation. The future executes for a brief period (represented by a green bar in the second line) on thread 1, and then pauses to allow the runtime thread to perform a future-unsafe operation.") (block-break) (box '(width 15))(block #f "In the Racket implementation, future-unsafe operations fall into one of two categories. A blocking operation halts the evaluation of the future, and will not allow it to continue until it is touched. After the operation completes within touch, the remainder of the future’s work will be evaluated sequentially by the runtime thread. A synchronized operation also halts the future, but the runtime thread may perform the operation at any time and, once completed, the future may continue running in parallel. Memory allocation and JIT compilation are two common examples of synchronized operations.")))) + +(define (ti6) (block '(font "Equity Text B" measure 210 leading 14 size 20 x-align justify x-align-last-line left) + "Firstlinerhere" (column-break) "Secondlinerhere" (column-break) "Thirdlinerhere")) + + +(define (make-jude jude-text) + (define jude-blocks (map (λ(s) (regexp-replace* #rx"\n" s " ")) (string-split (file->string jude-text) "\n\n"))) + (apply block '(font "Equity Text B" measure 360 leading 14 column-count 1 column-gutter 10 size 11.5 x-align justify x-align-last-line left) (add-between (map (λ(jb) (block #f (box '(width 10)) (optical-kern) jb)) jude-blocks) (block-break)))) + +(define (jude) (make-jude "texts/jude.txt")) +(define (jude0) (make-jude "texts/jude0.txt")) +(define (judebig) (make-jude "texts/judebig.txt")) + + +(define (jude1) (block '(font "Equity Text B" measure 150 leading 14 column-count 4 size 11 x-align justify x-align-last-line left) "this—is—a—test—of—em—dashes—breakable—or—not?")) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/stats-data.txt b/quad/stats-data.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..88985c19 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/stats-data.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +((3) 0 () 0 () () (c (h - (equal) (text u . "The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in moving house.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.1881) (bps q 6 13 18 24 30 37 44 51 60 65 71 77 84 91 99 106 113 121 128 135 141 148 156 164) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.087) (looseness-sd . 0.060070777554250304) (looseness-variance . 0.0036084983159722223) (looses q 0.1726 0.0897 0.1581 0.0578 0.1218 0.1354 0.116 0.1139 0.0016 0.0433 0.0164 0.1875 0.0837 0.1631 0.0683 0.1149 0.1381 0.0269 0.0058 0.0597 -0.0006 0.1708 0.0088 0.0355 0.4925)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.196) (bps q 4 8 13 18 24 32 36 42 47 51 56 61 65 70 76 82 88 94 98 102 107 113 119 124) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0982) (looseness-sd . 0.06536486576964214) (looseness-variance . 0.004272565677083334) (looses q 0.0811 0.2013 0.1581 0.0578 0.1218 0.0294 0.0415 0.1249 0.1912 0.0433 0.0164 0.0414 0.1304 0.1749 0.0667 0.0547 0.1593 0.1656 0.0058 0.1879 0.1726 0.0053 0.0165 0.108 0.3183)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 79) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.196) (bps q 4 8 13 18 24 31 35 41 47 51 56 61 65 70 76 82 88 94 98 102 107 113 118 124) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0982) (looseness-sd . 0.060810839305861696) (looseness-variance . 0.0036979581770833336) (looses q 0.0811 0.2013 0.1581 0.0578 0.1218 0.1354 0.116 0.0224 0.1132 0.0433 0.0164 0.0414 0.1304 0.1749 0.0667 0.0547 0.1593 0.1656 0.0058 0.1879 0.1726 0.0053 0.0664 0.0581 0.3183)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.1865) (bps q 7 13 18 24 30 38 45 53 60 65 71 78 85 93 100 107 115 122 129 136 141 149 157 165) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0847) (looseness-sd . 0.06252518770241496) (looseness-variance . 0.0039093990972222225) (looses q 0.0811 0.2013 0.1581 0.0578 0.1218 0.0294 0.0415 0.1249 0.1912 0.0433 0.0164 0.0414 0.1304 0.0218 0.1981 0.0547 0.0304 0.0148 0.0604 0.187 0.111 0.0419 0.0165 0.0578 0.5689)) (fh-improved . 471) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 19)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and everything would be smooth again.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1032) (bps q 7 14 20 27 32 37 44) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.08) (looseness-sd . 0.033468949972248876) (looseness-variance . 0.001120170612244898) (looses q 0.1042 0.1203 0.1 0.0933 0.0784 0.0469 0.0171 0.5002)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.22) (bps q 6 12 18 25 30 35 40) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0831) (looseness-sd . 0.06898301476835159) (looseness-variance . 0.004758656326530613) (looses q 0.1042 0.231 0.011 0.0933 0.0784 0.0469 0.0171 0.5002)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.22) (bps q 6 12 18 25 30 35 40) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0831) (looseness-sd . 0.06898301476835159) (looseness-variance . 0.004758656326530613) (looses q 0.1042 0.231 0.011 0.0933 0.0784 0.0469 0.0171 0.5002)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1032) (bps q 7 14 20 27 32 37 44) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.08) (looseness-sd . 0.033468949972248876) (looseness-variance . 0.001120170612244898) (looses q 0.1042 0.1203 0.1 0.0933 0.0784 0.0469 0.0171 0.5002)) (fh-improved . 15) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary lodgings just at first.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1294) (bps q 6 13 20 27 33 40 47 55 63 69 76) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0715) (looseness-sd . 0.0426730022844297) (looseness-variance . 0.0018209851239669422) (looses q 0.0332 0.1038 0.0566 0.0726 0.1409 0.0846 0.0119 0.0488 0.0115 0.1384 0.0844 0.6704)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1676) (bps q 5 9 13 18 23 30 37 45 51 57 61) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0735) (looseness-sd . 0.05126816227260265) (looseness-variance . 0.0026284244628099174) (looses q 0.0332 0.1038 0.1791 0.0874 0.0253 0.0846 0.0119 0.0488 0.0115 0.1384 0.0844 0.6704)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1676) (bps q 5 9 13 18 23 30 37 45 51 57 61) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0735) (looseness-sd . 0.05126816227260265) (looseness-variance . 0.0026284244628099174) (looses q 0.0332 0.1038 0.1791 0.0874 0.0253 0.0846 0.0119 0.0488 0.0115 0.1384 0.0844 0.6704)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1294) (bps q 6 13 20 27 33 40 47 55 63 69 76) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0715) (looseness-sd . 0.0426730022844297) (looseness-variance . 0.0018209851239669422) (looses q 0.0332 0.1038 0.0566 0.0726 0.1409 0.0846 0.0119 0.0488 0.0115 0.1384 0.0844 0.6704)) (fh-improved . 100) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve found a place to settle in, sir.”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.165) (bps q 8 14 20 26 32 39 45 52 58) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.1032) (looseness-sd . 0.04867753556966296) (looseness-variance . 0.0023695024691358026) (looses q 0.0724 0.1062 0.1082 0.175 0.0859 0.1814 0.114 0.0697 0.0164 0.3213)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.2201) (bps q 7 12 17 23 29 35 41 48 53) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.1081) (looseness-sd . 0.0691530669360851) (looseness-variance . 0.0047821466666666665) (looses q 0.0724 -0.0095 0.1459 0.0901 0.0851 0.185 0.2106 0.0298 0.1638 0.3712)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1808) (bps q 7 11 17 23 29 35 41 48 53) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.1081) (looseness-sd . 0.06133038036369541) (looseness-variance . 0.0037614155555555553) (looses q 0.0724 0.1062 0.0302 0.0901 0.0851 0.185 0.2106 0.0298 0.1638 0.3712)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.2201) (bps q 8 15 21 27 34 40 46 53 59) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.1081) (looseness-sd . 0.0691530669360851) (looseness-variance . 0.0047821466666666665) (looses q 0.0724 -0.0095 0.1459 0.0901 0.0851 0.185 0.2106 0.0298 0.1638 0.3712)) (fh-improved . 38) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 9)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy and the schoolmaster were left standing alone.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0936) (bps q 9 15 23 30 36 43 50 59 66) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0417) (looseness-sd . 0.029121308646486863) (looseness-variance . 0.0008480506172839504) (looses q 0.0222 0.0233 -0.0026 0.011 0.074 0.0595 0.091 0.0403 0.0564 0.168)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.2921) (bps q 6 12 18 25 30 37 42 46 52 56) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0755) (looseness-sd . 0.08416478182708013) (looseness-variance . 0.007083710499999998) (looses q 0.0222 0.0233 -0.0026 0.011 0.074 0.0595 0.2895 0.0887 0.1583 0.0316 0.8314)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1361) (bps q 6 12 17 24 29 36 42 46 52 56) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0755) (looseness-sd . 0.04183613868415679) (looseness-variance . 0.0017502625) (looses q 0.0222 0.0233 0.1129 0.0825 0.0476 0.089 0.0994 0.0887 0.1583 0.0316 0.8314)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1097) (bps q 9 15 23 30 36 43 51 59 66) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0417) (looseness-sd . 0.03297628777706119) (looseness-variance . 0.0010874355555555556) (looses q 0.0222 0.0233 -0.0026 0.011 0.074 0.0595 0.0241 0.1071 0.0564 0.168)) (fh-improved . 64) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, but one who had attended the night school only during the present teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1673) (bps q 6 15 21 28 35 40 45 53 60 65 72 79) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0994) (looseness-sd . 0.051226813183028366) (looseness-variance . 0.002624186388888889) (looses q 0.0937 -0.003 0.1126 0.0963 0.0783 0.0761 0.1377 0.0106 0.1405 0.1229 0.1626 0.1643 0.039)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.2908) (bps q 6 13 17 21 26 31 35 40 45 51 56 59 63) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.1454) (looseness-sd . 0.09075361730120976) (looseness-variance . 0.008236219053254439) (looses q 0.0937 -0.003 0.2786 0.1722 0.0086 0.0963 0.2878 0.1271 0.1465 0.2257 0.1216 0.2519 0.0836 0.4227)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.2039) (bps q 5 11 16 20 24 29 34 39 44 50 55 59 63) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.1466) (looseness-sd . 0.05168919175590481) (looseness-variance . 0.002671772544378698) (looses q 0.2467 0.1765 0.1082 0.1094 0.1693 0.2106 0.1426 0.0428 0.174 0.1682 0.1469 0.1273 0.0836 0.4227)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1435) (bps q 6 15 21 28 35 40 45 53 60 65 73 80) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.081) (looseness-sd . 0.04424544860459912) (looseness-variance . 0.001957659722222222) (looses q 0.0937 -0.003 0.1126 0.0963 0.0783 0.0761 0.1377 0.0106 0.1405 0.1229 0.0519 0.0546 0.216)) (fh-improved . 121) (bu-improved . 14) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that he was sorry.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0149) (bps q 6 13 19 27) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.005899576255969576) (looseness-variance . 3.4805e-05) (looses q 0.0422 0.0347 0.0307 0.0456 0.3648)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.2132) (bps q 5 12 17 23) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0879) (looseness-sd . 0.09017561685400327) (looseness-variance . 0.008131641875) (looses q 0.0422 0.0347 0.0307 0.2439 0.1881)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1146) (bps q 5 12 16 23) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0879) (looseness-sd . 0.05021814288680934) (looseness-variance . 0.0025218618749999998) (looses q 0.0422 0.0347 0.1253 0.1493 0.1881)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0149) (bps q 6 13 19 27) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.005899576255969576) (looseness-variance . 3.4805e-05) (looses q 0.0422 0.0347 0.0307 0.0456 0.3648)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1815) (bps q 6 11 18) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 21.266999999999996) (avg-looseness . 0.0967) (looseness-sd . 0.08206936090892873) (looseness-variance . 0.00673538) (looses q 0.2124 0.0309 0.0468 0.2213)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1815) (bps q 6 10 15) (piece-count . 20) (avg-piece-length . 24.457049999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.1433) (looseness-sd . 0.08017368645634301) (looseness-variance . 0.00642782) (looses q 0.2124 0.0309 0.1866 0.1195)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1815) (bps q 6 10 15) (piece-count . 20) (avg-piece-length . 24.457049999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.1433) (looseness-sd . 0.08017368645634301) (looseness-variance . 0.00642782) (looses q 0.2124 0.0309 0.1866 0.1195)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1815) (bps q 6 11 18) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 21.266999999999996) (avg-looseness . 0.0967) (looseness-sd . 0.08206936090892873) (looseness-variance . 0.00673538) (looses q 0.2124 0.0309 0.0468 0.2213)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should have elsewhere.”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1794) (bps q 5 11 20 28 35 42 50 58 65 73 81 90 98 106 115) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0896) (looseness-sd . 0.047395077100194) (looseness-variance . 0.0022462933333333335) (looses q 0.2092 0.085 0.1049 0.0662 0.1432 0.1459 0.0298 0.1286 0.0598 0.0385 0.0616 0.0485 0.0966 0.0664 0.0598 0.2918)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1799) (bps q 5 10 15 20 27 32 39 44 51 57 63 69 76 83 90) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0925) (looseness-sd . 0.05659399811130348) (looseness-variance . 0.003202880622222222) (looses q 0.2092 0.085 0.1049 0.2 0.0311 0.1459 0.1508 0.0293 0.0598 0.0385 0.0616 0.0485 0.0966 0.0664 0.0598 0.2918)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1799) (bps q 5 10 15 20 26 32 39 44 51 57 63 69 76 83 90) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0925) (looseness-sd . 0.05310518451358796) (looseness-variance . 0.002820160622222222) (looses q 0.2092 0.085 0.1049 0.2 0.1091 0.0679 0.1508 0.0293 0.0598 0.0385 0.0616 0.0485 0.0966 0.0664 0.0598 0.2918)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.2106) (bps q 5 11 20 28 36 42 50 59 65 73 81 90 98 106 115) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0896) (looseness-sd . 0.06079714905596588) (looseness-variance . 0.0036962933333333325) (looses q 0.2092 0.085 0.1049 0.0662 0.0487 0.2404 0.0298 0.0406 0.1478 0.0385 0.0616 0.0485 0.0966 0.0664 0.0598 0.2918)) (fh-improved . 198) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1947) (bps q 7 12 18 25 31 37 44 49 55 62) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.1142) (looseness-sd . 0.056313306597996896) (looseness-variance . 0.0031711885000000003) (looses q 0.0854 0.1248 0.142 0.1824 0.2087 0.014 0.1367 0.1264 0.067 0.0551 0.0205)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.264) (bps q 5 9 14 18 23 27 33 38 43 48 53) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.1283) (looseness-sd . 0.0869537998352293) (looseness-variance . 0.007560963305785124) (looses q 0.0854 0.1248 0.278 0.068 0.2087 0.014 0.1367 0.1264 0.067 0.2753 0.0268 0.812)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.264) (bps q 5 9 14 18 23 27 33 38 43 48 53) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.1283) (looseness-sd . 0.0869537998352293) (looseness-variance . 0.007560963305785124) (looses q 0.0854 0.1248 0.278 0.068 0.2087 0.014 0.1367 0.1264 0.067 0.2753 0.0268 0.812)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1947) (bps q 7 12 18 25 31 37 44 49 55 62) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.1142) (looseness-sd . 0.056313306597996896) (looseness-variance . 0.0031711885000000003) (looses q 0.0854 0.1248 0.142 0.1824 0.2087 0.014 0.1367 0.1264 0.067 0.0551 0.0205)) (fh-improved . 82) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1749) (bps q 7 14 19 25 32) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0512) (looseness-sd . 0.06255653443086501) (looseness-variance . 0.00391332) (looses q 0.0149 0.0447 0.0263 0.1725 -0.0024 0.4854)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1872) (bps q 6 12 16 23 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.0512) (looseness-sd . 0.0660307322388598) (looseness-variance . 0.004360057599999999) (looses q 0.0149 0.0447 0.0263 -0.0085 0.1787 0.4854)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1749) (bps q 6 12 16 22 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.0512) (looseness-sd . 0.06255653443086501) (looseness-variance . 0.00391332) (looses q 0.0149 0.0447 0.0263 0.1725 -0.0024 0.4854)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1872) (bps q 7 14 19 26 32) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0512) (looseness-sd . 0.0660307322388598) (looseness-variance . 0.004360057599999999) (looses q 0.0149 0.0447 0.0263 -0.0085 0.1787 0.4854)) (fh-improved . 14) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. “Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt me out for old acquaintance’ sake.”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1525) (bps q 7 14 21 29 36 43 50) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0677) (looseness-sd . 0.04772551621469571) (looseness-variance . 0.002277724897959183) (looses q 0.1024 0.0407 0.0574 0.0137 0.1662 0.0325 0.0608 0.2883)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1667) (bps q 6 12 18 25 33 37 43) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0677) (looseness-sd . 0.053631771728850336) (looseness-variance . 0.0028763669387755104) (looses q 0.1024 0.0407 0.0574 0.0137 0.0184 0.1804 0.0608 0.2883)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1525) (bps q 6 12 18 25 32 37 43) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0677) (looseness-sd . 0.04772551621469571) (looseness-variance . 0.002277724897959183) (looses q 0.1024 0.0407 0.0574 0.0137 0.1662 0.0325 0.0608 0.2883)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1667) (bps q 7 14 21 29 37 43 50) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0677) (looseness-sd . 0.053631771728850336) (looseness-variance . 0.0028763669387755104) (looses q 0.1024 0.0407 0.0574 0.0137 0.0184 0.1804 0.0608 0.2883)) (fh-improved . 27) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the hart’s-tongue fern.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.2402) (bps q 5 11 18 24 31 36 43 49 56 64 71 77 84 90 99 105 112 119 127 133 141 150 159 166 174 181) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.073) (looseness-sd . 0.05628714959970146) (looseness-variance . 0.003168243210059172) (looses q 0.1597 0.092 0.2379 0.0492 0.1593 0.0828 0.141 0.0937 0.04 0.0404 0.1142 0.1165 0.0075 0.0558 0.002 0.0902 0.0228 0.0147 0.042 0.0351 0.0513 0.0541 0.0693 0.1069 -0.0023 0.023 0.4397)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 28) (looseness-spread . 0.3421) (bps q 5 9 15 21 27 32 39 45 51 58 64 70 75 80 86 93 98 104 110 115 120 125 131 137 143 149 154) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0945) (looseness-sd . 0.07376065304008543) (looseness-variance . 0.0054406339368998635) (looses q 0.1597 0.092 0.0332 0.0959 0.3312 0.0828 -0.0095 0.1285 0.0793 0.001 0.0243 0.0226 0.0969 0.0295 0.0365 0.1232 0.0524 0.069 0.1536 0.1836 0.1754 0.044 -0.0109 0.1584 0.1531 0.1201 0.1265 0.8717)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 28) (looseness-spread . 0.2359) (bps q 5 9 14 20 27 32 38 44 50 57 63 69 74 79 85 91 96 102 108 114 119 123 129 136 142 149 154) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.094) (looseness-sd . 0.05616589404897769) (looseness-variance . 0.003154607654320988) (looses q 0.1597 0.092 0.2379 0.0492 0.1593 0.0828 0.141 0.0937 0.04 0.0404 0.0243 0.0606 0.1751 0.0558 0.002 0.0902 0.1825 0.1231 0.109 0.0987 0.0792 0.0208 0.1239 0.03 0.0985 0.0421 0.1265 0.8717)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.3407) (bps q 5 11 19 25 31 36 44 50 57 65 73 79 85 92 100 107 113 120 127 133 141 150 159 166 174 181) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0746) (looseness-sd . 0.06837548751489388) (looseness-variance . 0.004675207292899408) (looses q 0.1597 0.092 0.0332 0.0959 0.3312 0.0828 -0.0095 0.1285 0.0793 0.001 0.0243 0.0226 0.0969 0.0295 0.0365 0.1232 0.0524 0.069 0.1536 0.0351 0.0513 0.0541 0.0693 0.1069 -0.0023 0.023 0.4397)) (fh-improved . 341) (bu-improved . 27) (bh-improved . 18)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place like this!”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.164) (bps q 8 16 23 29 36 42 48 55 63 70 78 85 91) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.075) (looseness-sd . 0.05055206818353861) (looseness-variance . 0.0025555115976331364) (looses q 0.0599 0.0945 0.068 0.1683 0.1501 0.0246 0.0091 0.0756 0.1358 0.0497 0.037 0.0986 0.0043 0.7312)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.2912) (bps q 6 10 14 19 25 30 35 41 48 55 61 66 73 79) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.1453) (looseness-sd . 0.08868851362481836) (looseness-variance . 0.007865652448979592) (looses q 0.2338 0.2676 0.2955 0.0444 0.2579 0.1286 0.1795 0.1061 0.1063 0.0958 0.1794 0.037 0.0986 0.0043 0.7312)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.3452) (bps q 5 9 14 18 25 30 35 41 48 55 61 66 73 79) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.1454) (looseness-sd . 0.08404994051157919) (looseness-variance . 0.0070643925) (looses q 0.3495 0.2018 0.2456 0.1826 0.1198 0.1286 0.1795 0.1061 0.1063 0.0958 0.1794 0.037 0.0986 0.0043 0.7312)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1642) (bps q 8 16 23 29 37 42 48 55 63 70 78 85 91) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0738) (looseness-sd . 0.052857939565858304) (looseness-variance . 0.002793961775147929) (looses q 0.0599 0.0945 0.068 0.1683 0.0041 0.1542 0.0091 0.0756 0.1358 0.0497 0.037 0.0986 0.0043 0.7312)) (fh-improved . 162) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry:") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1385) (bps q 7 13 21 26 33 39 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0994) (looseness-sd . 0.04139088433607633) (looseness-variance . 0.0017132053061224488) (looses q 0.0891 0.1754 0.0685 0.1309 0.0862 0.0369 0.1085 0.7966)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1385) (bps q 7 13 19 23 30 36 41) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0994) (looseness-sd . 0.04139088433607633) (looseness-variance . 0.0017132053061224488) (looses q 0.0891 0.1754 0.0685 0.1309 0.0862 0.0369 0.1085 0.7966)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1385) (bps q 7 13 19 23 30 36 41) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0994) (looseness-sd . 0.04139088433607633) (looseness-variance . 0.0017132053061224488) (looses q 0.0891 0.1754 0.0685 0.1309 0.0862 0.0369 0.1085 0.7966)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1385) (bps q 7 13 21 26 33 39 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0994) (looseness-sd . 0.04139088433607633) (looseness-variance . 0.0017132053061224488) (looses q 0.0891 0.1754 0.0685 0.1309 0.0862 0.0369 0.1085 0.7966)) (fh-improved . 16) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.149) (bps q 6 12 19 25 32 38 45 51 58 64 70 75 79 84 94) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0879) (looseness-sd . 0.04743593293415165) (looseness-variance . 0.0022501677333333333) (looses q 0.1626 0.0136 0.1456 0.0778 0.0224 0.1296 0.054 0.1016 0.0597 0.1055 0.1204 0.1355 0.1239 0.0234 0.0435 0.065)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1458) (bps q 7 12 18 23 29 35 42 48 54 60 65 70 74 79 86) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0894) (looseness-sd . 0.04524518194116241) (looseness-variance . 0.002047126488888889) (looses q 0.0152 0.161 0.1456 0.0778 0.1286 0.0451 0.054 0.1016 0.0597 0.1055 0.1204 0.1355 0.1239 0.0234 0.0435 0.065)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.149) (bps q 6 12 18 23 29 35 42 48 54 60 65 70 74 79 86) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0894) (looseness-sd . 0.04559135688068762) (looseness-variance . 0.002078571822222222) (looses q 0.1626 0.0136 0.1456 0.0778 0.1286 0.0451 0.054 0.1016 0.0597 0.1055 0.1204 0.1355 0.1239 0.0234 0.0435 0.065)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1458) (bps q 7 12 19 25 32 38 45 51 58 64 70 75 79 84 94) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0879) (looseness-sd . 0.0471033162314502) (looseness-variance . 0.0022187224) (looses q 0.0152 0.161 0.1456 0.0778 0.0224 0.1296 0.054 0.1016 0.0597 0.1055 0.1204 0.1355 0.1239 0.0234 0.0435 0.065)) (fh-improved . 51) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses warranted to last five years.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 58) (line-count . 38) (looseness-spread . 0.277) (bps q 9 16 23 29 37 45 52 55 60 65 71 77 84 89 94 99 105 113 119 126 132 139 146 153 160 167 175 181 189 195 203 209 215 222 229 236 242) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0793) (looseness-sd . 0.060622847645782116) (looseness-variance . 0.0036751296566837105) (looses q 0.0306 0.1209 0.0631 0.1173 0.0361 0.0191 -0.0128 0.1232 0.0908 0.0042 0.1147 0.032 0.0909 0.1594 0.0267 0.1346 0.1833 0.1025 0.0005 0.09 0.117 0.2642 0.0426 0.1229 0.0248 0.1554 0.1086 0.1191 0.0627 0.0703 0.0493 0.0148 0.1546 0.0048 0.0553 0.0369 0.0026 0.1812)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 39) (looseness-spread . 0.4604) (bps q 8 16 20 26 32 39 43 47 51 56 62 68 73 77 82 88 95 101 106 111 115 121 126 130 135 143 147 153 160 166 171 176 182 187 191 194 197 201) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.1061) (looseness-sd . 0.0985951230160421) (looseness-variance . 0.009720998282548476) (looses q 0.0306 0.0429 0.0512 0.0013 0.0785 -0.0072 0.1809 0.0452 0.1688 0.0042 0.1147 0.032 0.0909 0.1594 0.0267 -0.0022 0.0565 0.2069 0.1144 0.168 0.4497 0.0667 0.1582 0.1418 0.0644 0.0977 0.1245 0.0187 0.0627 0.0622 0.2374 0.0015 0.0396 -0.0107 0.2379 0.2793 0.1476 0.2871 0.1812)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 39) (looseness-spread . 0.2427) (bps q 8 16 20 25 31 36 42 45 50 54 60 66 71 75 79 84 89 96 102 107 112 117 124 128 133 140 145 151 156 162 168 173 178 184 188 192 196 201) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.1074) (looseness-sd . 0.06258230973437902) (looseness-variance . 0.00391654549168975) (looses q 0.0306 0.0429 0.0512 0.0808 0.1686 0.17 0.1415 0.0294 0.2128 0.0583 0.0739 0.1381 0.1216 0.1254 0.0997 0.206 0.1415 0.1508 0.0467 0.1249 0.1864 0.081 0.1275 0.2334 0.0604 0.0664 0.0759 0.0443 0.1216 0.1995 0.112 -0.0093 0.2201 0.1083 0.1433 0.0553 0.0369 0.0026 0.1812)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 49) (line-count . 38) (looseness-spread . 0.2168) (bps q 9 17 24 31 38 47 52 56 60 65 71 77 84 89 94 100 107 115 120 126 132 140 146 153 160 167 175 182 189 195 203 209 216 223 229 236 242) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0797) (looseness-sd . 0.0660572759863572) (looseness-variance . 0.004363563710737765) (looses q 0.0306 0.0429 0.0512 0.0013 0.0785 -0.0072 0.1809 0.0452 0.1688 0.0042 0.1147 0.032 0.0909 0.1594 0.0267 -0.0022 0.0565 0.0729 0.2096 0.168 0.117 0.1209 0.1858 0.1229 0.0248 0.1554 0.1086 0.0064 0.1971 0.0703 0.0493 0.0148 0.0137 0.0276 0.171 0.0369 0.0026 0.1812)) (fh-improved . 684) (bu-improved . 92) (bh-improved . 18)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1526) (bps q 7 13 19 27 35 43 50 55 62 69 75 82 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.083) (looseness-sd . 0.040326293417922786) (looseness-variance . 0.0016262099408284024) (looses q 0.1034 0.1655 0.1237 0.0962 0.1128 0.037 0.0444 0.0948 0.0956 0.0623 0.0908 0.0395 0.0129 0.8708)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.297) (bps q 5 11 17 22 27 33 38 41 47 53 59 65 72) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.1001) (looseness-sd . 0.07011069269925402) (looseness-variance . 0.004915509230769231) (looses q 0.1034 0.0151 0.1021 -0.0118 0.1511 0.1037 0.1331 0.2852 0.0956 0.0623 0.0908 0.0395 0.1312 0.7742)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.2701) (bps q 5 11 17 21 27 33 38 41 47 53 59 65 72) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.1001) (looseness-sd . 0.06383021951299339) (looseness-variance . 0.004074296923076923) (looses q 0.1034 0.0151 0.1021 0.1038 0.0355 0.1037 0.1331 0.2852 0.0956 0.0623 0.0908 0.0395 0.1312 0.7742)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.297) (bps q 7 14 21 29 38 44 51 55 62 69 75 82 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.091) (looseness-sd . 0.07309725870899147) (looseness-variance . 0.005343209230769231) (looses q 0.1034 0.0151 0.1021 -0.0118 0.1511 0.1037 0.1331 0.2852 0.0956 0.0623 0.0908 0.0395 0.0129 0.8708)) (fh-improved . 148) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 10)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.192) (bps q 8 15 24 28 33 39 46 52 61 67) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0743) (looseness-sd . 0.0552142771391603) (looseness-variance . 0.0030486164) (looses q 0.0673 0.0747 -0.0096 0.0578 0.1824 0.1543 0.0336 0.0174 0.0795 0.0852 0.4552)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.3106) (bps q 5 12 17 21 27 33 37 42 47 51) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0958) (looseness-sd . 0.08861825150610905) (looseness-variance . 0.0078531945) (looses q 0.0673 0.0747 -0.0096 0.0578 0.1045 0.0512 0.2147 0.0174 0.0795 0.301 0.261)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.192) (bps q 5 12 17 21 26 32 36 41 45 51) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0958) (looseness-sd . 0.053674780856562423) (looseness-variance . 0.0028809821) (looses q 0.0673 0.0747 -0.0096 0.0578 0.1824 0.1543 0.1493 0.0657 0.1091 0.1073 0.261)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.2243) (bps q 8 15 24 28 34 40 46 52 61 67) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0743) (looseness-sd . 0.05648175014993781) (looseness-variance . 0.0031901881) (looses q 0.0673 0.0747 -0.0096 0.0578 0.1045 0.0512 0.2147 0.0174 0.0795 0.0852 0.4552)) (fh-improved . 83) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy entered.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1256) (bps q 5 12) (piece-count . 15) (avg-piece-length . 22.001033333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.1127) (looseness-sd . 0.0628) (looseness-variance . 0.00394384) (looses q 0.1755 0.0499 0.5219)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1256) (bps q 5 9) (piece-count . 12) (avg-piece-length . 27.50129166666667) (avg-looseness . 0.1127) (looseness-sd . 0.0628) (looseness-variance . 0.00394384) (looses q 0.1755 0.0499 0.5219)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 2) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1256) (bps q 5 9) (piece-count . 12) (avg-piece-length . 27.50129166666667) (avg-looseness . 0.1127) (looseness-sd . 0.0628) (looseness-variance . 0.00394384) (looses q 0.1755 0.0499 0.5219)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 2) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1256) (bps q 5 12) (piece-count . 15) (avg-piece-length . 22.001033333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.1127) (looseness-sd . 0.0628) (looseness-variance . 0.00394384) (looses q 0.1755 0.0499 0.5219)) (fh-improved . 3) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 53) (line-count . 32) (looseness-spread . 0.2755) (bps q 6 10 15 21 28 34 42 49 57 63 69 76 82 88 95 102 110 117 124 130 137 145 153 160 167 175 180 187 193 201 207) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0903) (looseness-sd . 0.06354731929674366) (looseness-variance . 0.00403826178980229) (looses q 0.2674 0.2546 0.0809 0.1203 0.1053 0.0683 0.0436 0.1335 0.1709 0.015 0.0981 0.0991 0.0942 0.1743 0.0891 0.0598 0.0154 0.0639 0.0537 0.1025 0.0002 -0.0081 0.0795 0.0414 0.0837 0.0471 0.0632 0.1491 0.1114 0.1068 0.0138 0.1753)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 32) (looseness-spread . 0.3385) (bps q 6 10 15 20 25 30 35 42 47 52 58 64 69 75 81 88 93 100 105 111 117 125 133 140 147 154 159 166 170 176 182) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.091) (looseness-sd . 0.08726784263381591) (looseness-variance . 0.007615676357960458) (looses q 0.2674 0.2546 0.0809 0.3113 0.0536 0.0952 0.143 0.0116 0.0601 0.015 0.0482 0.149 0.0942 0.0282 0.114 0.0687 0.017 0.092 0.1036 0.1025 0.0002 -0.0081 0.0795 0.0414 0.0837 0.0471 0.0632 0.0634 0.3304 -0.004 0.0138 0.1753)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 32) (looseness-spread . 0.3194) (bps q 6 10 15 20 25 30 35 42 47 52 57 64 69 74 80 87 92 99 105 111 117 125 133 139 146 153 158 164 170 176 182) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0915) (looseness-sd . 0.07634215779785145) (looseness-variance . 0.00582812505723205) (looses q 0.2674 0.2546 0.0809 0.3113 0.0536 0.0952 0.143 0.0116 0.0601 0.015 0.0981 0.0991 0.0942 0.1743 0.0891 0.0598 0.0154 0.0639 0.0537 0.1025 0.0002 -0.0081 0.0795 0.1194 0.1332 0.0736 0.0831 0.0542 0.1502 -0.004 0.0138 0.1753)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 32) (looseness-spread . 0.2755) (bps q 6 10 15 22 28 34 42 50 58 63 70 76 82 89 96 103 111 118 124 130 137 145 153 160 167 175 180 188 194 201 207) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.091) (looseness-sd . 0.06693806322274709) (looseness-variance . 0.0044807043080124865) (looses q 0.2674 0.2546 0.0809 0.1008 0.1248 0.0683 0.0436 0.0369 0.1157 0.2213 0.0482 0.149 0.0942 0.0282 0.114 0.0687 0.017 0.092 0.1036 0.1025 0.0002 -0.0081 0.0795 0.0414 0.0837 0.0471 0.0632 0.0634 0.1139 0.19 0.0138 0.1753)) (fh-improved . 439) (bu-improved . 12) (bh-improved . 11)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1253) (bps q 6 14 21 28 35 43 48 55) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0792) (looseness-sd . 0.03302798056194172) (looseness-variance . 0.0010908475) (looses q 0.0207 0.0562 0.0867 0.0746 0.0831 0.0737 0.146 0.093 0.4833)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1253) (bps q 4 11 17 22 29 34 39 45) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0792) (looseness-sd . 0.03302798056194172) (looseness-variance . 0.0010908475) (looses q 0.0207 0.0562 0.0867 0.0746 0.0831 0.0737 0.146 0.093 0.4833)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1253) (bps q 4 11 17 22 29 34 39 45) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0792) (looseness-sd . 0.03302798056194172) (looseness-variance . 0.0010908475) (looses q 0.0207 0.0562 0.0867 0.0746 0.0831 0.0737 0.146 0.093 0.4833)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1253) (bps q 6 14 21 28 35 43 48 55) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0792) (looseness-sd . 0.03302798056194172) (looseness-variance . 0.0010908475) (looses q 0.0207 0.0562 0.0867 0.0746 0.0831 0.0737 0.146 0.093 0.4833)) (fh-improved . 49) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little maid should know such changes!”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 47) (line-count . 26) (looseness-spread . 0.1345) (bps q 6 14 22 29 36 41 49 57 64 71 78 84 90 97 104 111 118 125 132 138 144 151 158 165 173) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0567) (looseness-sd . 0.041105191107693444) (looseness-variance . 0.001689636736) (looses q -0.0008 -0.0011 0.0179 0.0483 0.1256 0.1334 0.0809 0.0706 0.1142 0.0351 0.0703 0.0754 0.1082 0.0391 0.0141 0.081 0.0007 0.021 0.0904 0.0684 0.0449 0.074 0.0951 0.0001 0.0105 0.1575)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.3077) (bps q 5 11 17 24 27 31 37 44 52 58 65 71 77 83 89 93 99 106 113 120 126 132 138 146 152 158) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0893) (looseness-sd . 0.08801779573963384) (looseness-variance . 0.007747132366863904) (looses q -0.0008 -0.0011 0.0179 0.0483 0.3036 0.2522 0.0934 0.0418 0.0126 0.2289 0.0246 0.1724 0.1636 0.0107 0.0708 0.2481 0.1193 0.0137 -0.0041 0.0565 0.0538 0.0981 0.0979 0.0481 0.0046 0.1459 0.3809)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.2276) (bps q 5 10 15 21 26 30 36 43 51 57 64 71 77 82 88 93 99 106 113 120 126 132 138 146 152 158) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0887) (looseness-sd . 0.05912104584773664) (looseness-variance . 0.0034952980621301777) (looses q -0.0008 0.0769 0.159 0.1844 0.2235 0.0518 0.135 0.048 0.0762 0.1274 0.067 0.0143 0.1636 0.1066 0.11 0.1294 0.1193 0.0137 -0.0041 0.0565 0.0538 0.0981 0.0979 0.0481 0.0046 0.1459 0.3809)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 26) (looseness-spread . 0.1378) (bps q 6 14 22 29 36 42 50 57 64 71 78 84 90 97 104 111 118 125 132 138 144 151 158 165 173) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0576) (looseness-sd . 0.04368124100801166) (looseness-variance . 0.0019080508159999999) (looses q -0.0008 -0.0011 0.0179 0.0483 0.1256 0.0408 0.1308 0.1367 0.1142 0.0351 0.0703 0.0754 0.1082 0.0391 0.0141 0.081 0.0007 0.021 0.0904 0.0684 0.0449 0.074 0.0951 0.0001 0.0105 0.1575)) (fh-improved . 343) (bu-improved . 15) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, and he descended into the midst of it.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1929) (bps q 7 15 21 28 35 41 48 56 63 71 77 83 90 97 103 108) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0831) (looseness-sd . 0.045243376155383236) (looseness-variance . 0.0020469630859375003) (looses q 0.0752 0.0553 0.1965 0.055 0.1384 0.0606 0.0765 0.0411 0.1072 0.0363 0.1428 0.0811 0.0843 0.0976 0.0036 0.0782 0.5675)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.2684) (bps q 4 8 13 18 23 30 35 41 48 55 60 66 73 79 85 90) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0957) (looseness-sd . 0.07445036281602326) (looseness-variance . 0.005542856523437499) (looses q 0.2514 0.1478 0.2749 0.1406 0.0656 0.091 0.0169 0.0893 0.0626 0.0065 0.0967 0.0751 0.0575 0.015 0.0413 0.0993 0.4307)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.2599) (bps q 4 8 13 18 23 30 35 41 48 54 60 66 73 79 85 90) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0957) (looseness-sd . 0.0727425960042498) (looseness-variance . 0.005291485273437499) (looses q 0.2514 0.1478 0.2749 0.1406 0.0656 0.091 0.0169 0.0893 0.0626 0.0564 0.0468 0.0751 0.0575 0.015 0.0413 0.0993 0.4307)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1758) (bps q 7 15 21 28 36 42 49 56 63 71 78 84 91 98 103 108) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0834) (looseness-sd . 0.045222974923566236) (looseness-variance . 0.0020451174609375003) (looses q 0.0752 0.0553 0.1965 0.055 0.0324 0.0207 0.1176 0.1297 0.1072 0.0363 0.0338 0.0793 0.076 0.1323 0.1096 0.0782 0.5675)) (fh-improved . 222) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 7)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1324) (bps q 7 13 20 26 32 39 47 54 62 68 74 81 88 93) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.08) (looseness-sd . 0.03621054996228901) (looseness-variance . 0.0013112039285714285) (looses q 0.0792 0.0976 0.0909 0.134 0.073 0.1141 0.0658 0.0756 0.0083 0.0968 0.1186 0.0659 0.0979 0.0016 0.0432)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1849) (bps q 6 13 19 26 31 37 43 49 55 62 67 73 79 84) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0752) (looseness-sd . 0.06894998927054422) (looseness-variance . 0.004754101020408163) (looses q 0.0792 0.0086 0.1799 0.0151 0.0034 0.0277 0.0102 0.1597 0.1617 0.0328 0.047 0.1883 0.0159 0.1239 0.1317)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1927) (bps q 6 12 19 26 31 36 42 49 55 62 67 73 79 84) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0752) (looseness-sd . 0.057854776406630636) (looseness-variance . 0.0033471751530612247) (looses q 0.0792 0.0976 0.0909 0.0151 0.0034 0.1223 0.0796 -0.0044 0.1617 0.0328 0.047 0.1883 0.0159 0.1239 0.1317)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1849) (bps q 7 14 20 27 34 41 49 56 63 70 75 82 89 94) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0752) (looseness-sd . 0.06894998927054422) (looseness-variance . 0.004754101020408163) (looses q 0.0792 0.0086 0.1799 0.0151 0.0034 0.0277 0.0102 0.1597 0.1617 0.0328 0.047 0.1883 0.0159 0.1239 0.1317)) (fh-improved . 77) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 17)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and in the other that of a granary good to feed in.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 40) (looseness-spread . 0.2056) (bps q 6 12 19 28 35 43 50 55 61 67 73 79 85 91 98 104 110 117 123 130 137 143 150 156 163 169 176 183 189 195 202 209 217 223 229 237 245 253 259) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.08) (looseness-sd . 0.046310639228150596) (looseness-variance . 0.002144675305719921) (looses q 0.0506 0.0677 0.1968 0.068 0.0768 0.0838 0.1248 0.1 0.0105 0.1111 0.0733 0.109 0.1403 0.013 0.151 0.0622 0.1324 0.1467 0.0464 0.04 0.0134 0.0962 -0.0088 0.1779 0.0929 0.027 0.0936 0.0908 0.0856 0.0585 0.095 0.0809 0.0604 0.0932 0.0603 0.0119 0.0137 0.0931 0.0818 0.0274)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 58) (line-count . 41) (looseness-spread . 0.2793) (bps q 5 11 17 23 27 33 39 44 49 52 58 63 68 74 81 85 89 95 100 105 110 115 120 126 130 135 142 149 154 160 167 173 178 182 187 191 197 203 209 217) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.093) (looseness-sd . 0.08006937616842034) (looseness-variance . 0.006411105) (looses q 0.0506 -0.0087 0.0115 0.1195 0.2705 -0.0053 0.088 0.0408 0.1955 0.1111 0.0733 0.109 0.1403 0.013 0.151 0.2248 0.0079 0.0204 0.1726 0.04 0.0134 0.0962 -0.0088 0.0614 0.231 0.027 0.0936 0.0144 0.112 0.0304 0.0442 0.0516 0.2162 0.2087 0.2005 0.1474 0.2138 0.0104 0.1305 -0.0017 0.5432)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 55) (line-count . 41) (looseness-spread . 0.1985) (bps q 5 10 16 21 27 32 38 43 49 52 58 63 68 73 80 85 88 94 100 104 109 114 119 125 130 135 141 147 152 158 164 170 175 180 186 190 197 203 209 217) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0951) (looseness-sd . 0.04836744152836699) (looseness-variance . 0.0023394094) (looses q 0.0506 0.0677 0.1968 0.068 0.0768 0.0838 0.1248 0.1 0.0105 0.1111 0.0733 0.109 0.1403 0.1419 0.1165 0.1468 0.0859 0.0687 0.0464 0.1557 0.0815 0.0421 0.0645 0.0857 0.0039 0.027 0.1673 0.1656 0.1412 0.1707 0.069 0.1212 0.1169 0.1148 0.1258 0.1053 0.0873 0.0104 0.1305 -0.0017 0.5432)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 42) (line-count . 40) (looseness-spread . 0.225) (bps q 6 13 21 30 37 45 51 56 61 67 73 79 85 91 98 104 110 118 123 130 137 143 150 157 164 170 177 185 191 197 203 210 217 223 229 237 245 253 259) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0784) (looseness-sd . 0.055659803283088984) (looseness-variance . 0.003098013701512163) (looses q 0.0506 -0.0087 0.0115 0.1195 0.0816 0.0503 0.1771 0.0408 0.1955 0.1111 0.0733 0.109 0.1403 0.013 0.151 0.0622 0.1324 0.0204 0.1726 0.04 0.0134 0.0962 -0.0088 0.0614 0.05 0.0672 0.0366 0.0525 0.0999 0.1308 0.0941 0.0516 0.2162 0.0932 0.0603 0.0119 0.0137 0.0931 0.0818 0.0274)) (fh-improved . 999) (bu-improved . 36) (bh-improved . 24)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1471) (bps q 6 12 19 25 32 38 45 51 58 65) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.074) (looseness-sd . 0.04395066438633209) (looseness-variance . 0.0019316608999999998) (looses q 0.1117 -0.0004 0.0683 0.1467 0.0637 0.0194 0.0538 0.0564 0.0928 0.1277 0.4186)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1544) (bps q 6 11 17 23 29 34 39 43 48 54) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0762) (looseness-sd . 0.05000496875311493) (looseness-variance . 0.0025004969000000004) (looses q 0.1117 -0.0004 -0.0053 0.0579 0.1182 0.1491 0.0538 0.0564 0.0928 0.1277 0.4186)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1083) (bps q 6 10 16 22 28 34 39 43 48 54) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0762) (looseness-sd . 0.03444293251161985) (looseness-variance . 0.0011863156) (looses q 0.1117 0.1254 0.0478 0.0631 0.0637 0.0194 0.0538 0.0564 0.0928 0.1277 0.4186)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1544) (bps q 6 12 20 26 33 38 45 51 58 65) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0762) (looseness-sd . 0.05000496875311493) (looseness-variance . 0.0025004969000000004) (looses q 0.1117 -0.0004 -0.0053 0.0579 0.1182 0.1491 0.0538 0.0564 0.0928 0.1277 0.4186)) (fh-improved . 50) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1357) (bps q 6 12 19 23 31 38 43 48 54 61 67 74 81 88 95) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0716) (looseness-sd . 0.04446584906794576) (looseness-variance . 0.0019772117333333333) (looses q 0.0731 0.1416 0.0139 0.0966 0.0059 0.0928 0.0823 0.1349 0.1288 0.0243 0.059 0.0169 0.1132 0.0526 0.0375 0.5804)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1768) (bps q 6 12 17 21 27 34 39 44 50 54 60 66 72 79 85) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0821) (looseness-sd . 0.04895952977261481) (looseness-variance . 0.0023970355555555556) (looses q 0.0731 0.1416 0.0139 0.0966 0.0059 0.0928 0.0823 0.1349 0.1288 0.0243 0.059 0.1827 0.0988 0.0467 0.0496 0.4298)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1768) (bps q 6 12 17 21 27 34 39 44 50 54 60 66 72 79 85) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0821) (looseness-sd . 0.04895952977261481) (looseness-variance . 0.0023970355555555556) (looses q 0.0731 0.1416 0.0139 0.0966 0.0059 0.0928 0.0823 0.1349 0.1288 0.0243 0.059 0.1827 0.0988 0.0467 0.0496 0.4298)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1357) (bps q 6 12 19 23 31 38 43 48 54 61 67 74 81 88 95) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0716) (looseness-sd . 0.04446584906794576) (looseness-variance . 0.0019772117333333333) (looses q 0.0731 0.1416 0.0139 0.0966 0.0059 0.0928 0.0823 0.1349 0.1288 0.0243 0.059 0.0169 0.1132 0.0526 0.0375 0.5804)) (fh-improved . 74) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a good meal!”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.174) (bps q 6 10 16 22 28 34 41) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.1114) (looseness-sd . 0.05560420994192172) (looseness-variance . 0.0030918281632653062) (looses q 0.1366 0.2016 0.0276 0.164 0.0626 0.0992 0.0879 0.8221)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.2076) (bps q 5 10 15 20 26 32 38) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.1113) (looseness-sd . 0.06159445045237933) (looseness-variance . 0.0037938763265306127) (looses q 0.1366 0.0224 0.1406 0.23 0.0626 0.0992 0.0879 0.8221)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.174) (bps q 5 9 14 20 26 32 38) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.1114) (looseness-sd . 0.05560420994192172) (looseness-variance . 0.0030918281632653062) (looses q 0.1366 0.2016 0.0276 0.164 0.0626 0.0992 0.0879 0.8221)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.2161) (bps q 6 11 17 22 28 35 41) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.1082) (looseness-sd . 0.0726045396905281) (looseness-variance . 0.00527141918367347) (looses q 0.1366 0.0224 0.1406 0.23 0.0626 0.0139 0.1515 0.8221)) (fh-improved . 14) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much resembled his own.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0863) (bps q 6 13 18 25 31 37) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0732) (looseness-sd . 0.034442447970813896) (looseness-variance . 0.0011862822222222223) (looses q 0.0418 0.0379 0.0447 0.0798 0.111 0.1242 0.0865)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0863) (bps q 6 13 18 23 29 35) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0732) (looseness-sd . 0.034442447970813896) (looseness-variance . 0.0011862822222222223) (looses q 0.0418 0.0379 0.0447 0.0798 0.111 0.1242 0.0865)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0863) (bps q 6 13 18 23 29 35) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0732) (looseness-sd . 0.034442447970813896) (looseness-variance . 0.0011862822222222223) (looses q 0.0418 0.0379 0.0447 0.0798 0.111 0.1242 0.0865)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0863) (bps q 6 13 18 25 31 37) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0732) (looseness-sd . 0.034442447970813896) (looseness-variance . 0.0011862822222222223) (looses q 0.0418 0.0379 0.0447 0.0798 0.111 0.1242 0.0865)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the clacker swinging in his hand.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.1949) (bps q 7 13 20 27 35 42 48 55 60 66 72 78 85 92 98 104 110 117) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0782) (looseness-sd . 0.04911699719628885) (looseness-variance . 0.002412479413580247) (looses q 0.0631 0.0256 0.0817 0.0762 0.0487 0.0667 0.0991 0.0499 0.1728 0.0247 0.0613 0.0887 0.0799 0.1584 0.1857 0.0604 0.0738 -0.0092 0.661)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.2195) (bps q 7 13 18 25 31 37 42 48 52 58 63 69 73 79 84 89 93 97) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0954) (looseness-sd . 0.059623313445101654) (looseness-variance . 0.0035549395061728398) (looses q 0.0631 0.0256 0.0817 -0.0019 0.1268 0.0667 0.0991 0.0499 0.1728 0.0247 0.0613 0.0887 0.0799 0.1584 0.1857 0.0604 0.2176 0.1571 0.3721)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.2003) (bps q 6 11 17 21 28 34 40 45 49 55 60 66 70 77 83 88 93 97) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0946) (looseness-sd . 0.06112128324431759) (looseness-variance . 0.0037358112654320985) (looses q 0.2188 0.1485 0.18 0.114 0.0378 0.1093 0.0404 0.195 0.1122 0.0598 0.0209 0.0731 0.0554 0.0533 0.0185 0.0302 0.0778 0.1571 0.3721)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.1949) (bps q 7 13 20 28 35 42 48 55 60 66 72 78 85 92 98 104 110 117) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0782) (looseness-sd . 0.05340014016026365) (looseness-variance . 0.002851574969135803) (looses q 0.0631 0.0256 0.0817 -0.0019 0.1268 0.0667 0.0991 0.0499 0.1728 0.0247 0.0613 0.0887 0.0799 0.1584 0.1857 0.0604 0.0738 -0.0092 0.661)) (fh-improved . 152) (bu-improved . 38) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1682) (bps q 6 12 17 23 29 35 41 48 54 61) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.104) (looseness-sd . 0.057470221854452594) (looseness-variance . 0.0033028264) (looses q 0.1387 0.1617 0.0512 0.1627 0.1485 0.0009 0.0485 0.0557 0.1034 0.1691 0.4347)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.2268) (bps q 7 12 17 23 29 35 39 45 50 56) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.1038) (looseness-sd . 0.07354770220747893) (looseness-variance . 0.0054092645) (looses q 0.0492 0.2277 0.0512 0.1627 0.1485 0.0009 0.0485 0.0557 0.2096 0.0845 0.4347)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.2281) (bps q 6 12 17 23 29 35 39 44 50 56) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.1078) (looseness-sd . 0.06704215390334652) (looseness-variance . 0.0044946504) (looses q 0.1387 0.1617 0.0512 0.1627 0.1485 0.0009 0.0485 0.229 0.0527 0.0845 0.4347)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.2268) (bps q 7 12 17 23 29 35 41 48 54 61) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.1017) (looseness-sd . 0.0683712432240339) (looseness-variance . 0.004674626900000001) (looses q 0.0492 0.2277 0.0512 0.1627 0.1485 0.0009 0.0485 0.0557 0.1034 0.1691 0.4347)) (fh-improved . 14) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1796) (bps q 5 10 15 21 27 32 38 45 52 58) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.1078) (looseness-sd . 0.0578776329854634) (looseness-variance . 0.0033498204000000005) (looses q 0.1822 0.0679 0.1255 0.1722 0.0799 0.2005 0.1132 0.0561 0.06 0.0209 0.0235)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.2007) (bps q 5 8 13 19 24 29 35 42 48 53) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.1078) (looseness-sd . 0.06753500129562448) (looseness-variance . 0.0045609764) (looses q 0.0285 0.2216 0.1255 0.1722 0.0799 0.2005 0.1132 0.0561 0.06 0.0209 0.0235)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1796) (bps q 4 8 13 19 24 29 35 42 48 53) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.1078) (looseness-sd . 0.0578776329854634) (looseness-variance . 0.0033498204000000005) (looses q 0.1822 0.0679 0.1255 0.1722 0.0799 0.2005 0.1132 0.0561 0.06 0.0209 0.0235)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.2007) (bps q 6 10 15 21 27 32 38 45 52 58) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.1078) (looseness-sd . 0.06753500129562448) (looseness-variance . 0.0045609764) (looses q 0.0285 0.2216 0.1255 0.1722 0.0799 0.2005 0.1132 0.0561 0.06 0.0209 0.0235)) (fh-improved . 28) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1344) (bps q 5 10 17 25 32 39 47 52 61 67 74 81 89 95 102 111) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0804) (looseness-sd . 0.04442460607591248) (looseness-variance . 0.0019735456250000003) (looses q 0.1301 0.1269 0.0965 0.1252 0.0788 0.0623 0.0187 0.1164 0.0435 0.1343 0.143 0.0193 0.0648 0.0811 0.0365 0.0086 0.7767)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1714) (bps q 5 11 15 21 26 32 38 43 49 55 62 69 76 81 87 96) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0807) (looseness-sd . 0.051238596292248285) (looseness-variance . 0.0026253937499999998) (looses q 0.1301 0.0309 0.093 0.18 0.1287 0.0623 0.0187 0.1164 0.0435 0.1343 0.143 0.0193 0.0648 0.0811 0.0365 0.0086 0.7767)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1714) (bps q 5 10 15 21 26 32 38 43 49 55 62 69 76 81 87 96) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0817) (looseness-sd . 0.05362382538049202) (looseness-variance . 0.0028755146484375003) (looses q 0.1301 0.1269 0.0135 0.18 0.1287 0.0623 0.0187 0.1164 0.0435 0.1343 0.143 0.0193 0.0648 0.0811 0.0365 0.0086 0.7767)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1714) (bps q 5 11 18 26 32 39 47 52 61 67 74 81 89 95 102 111) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0807) (looseness-sd . 0.051238596292248285) (looseness-variance . 0.0026253937499999998) (looses q 0.1301 0.0309 0.093 0.18 0.1287 0.0623 0.0187 0.1164 0.0435 0.1343 0.143 0.0193 0.0648 0.0811 0.0365 0.0086 0.7767)) (fh-improved . 144) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.2277) (bps q 6 13 19 25 32 37 45 51 60 66 74 80 86 91 96 103 109) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0902) (looseness-sd . 0.06587581059953136) (looseness-variance . 0.004339622422145328) (looses q 0.2289 0.0121 0.1802 0.0733 0.0859 0.1138 0.1212 0.0602 0.0222 0.0828 0.0473 0.1984 0.0016 0.1224 0.1272 0.0554 0.0012 0.0198)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.2674) (bps q 3 8 14 19 25 31 34 40 47 50 54 59 63 68 73 78 83 88) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.1267) (looseness-sd . 0.09267488306233401) (looseness-variance . 0.008588633950617285) (looses q 0.2289 0.0121 0.1802 -0.0003 0.1596 -0.0019 0.2369 0.0602 0.1953 0.2655 0.2549 0.0021 0.2162 0.1347 0.1232 0.1251 0.0491 0.0384 0.3339)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.2361) (bps q 3 7 12 17 23 27 32 37 44 49 53 58 62 67 72 78 83 88) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.1268) (looseness-sd . 0.0752899598589052) (looseness-variance . 0.0056685780555555555) (looses q 0.2289 0.2346 0.2438 0.0712 0.1992 0.1277 0.1499 0.0332 0.2455 0.1031 0.1031 0.1367 0.0621 0.1506 0.0956 0.0094 0.0491 0.0384 0.3339)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.2388) (bps q 6 13 19 26 32 38 45 51 60 66 74 80 86 91 96 103 109) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0902) (looseness-sd . 0.08223403558744116) (looseness-variance . 0.006762436608996539) (looses q 0.2289 0.0121 0.1802 -0.0003 0.1596 -0.0019 0.2369 0.0602 0.0222 0.0828 0.0473 0.1984 0.0016 0.1224 0.1272 0.0554 0.0012 0.0198)) (fh-improved . 246) (bu-improved . 25) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and never let him see him in one of those fields again.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.056) (bps q 4 11 20 27 35 42 49) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0375) (looseness-sd . 0.01852997571504075) (looseness-variance . 0.00034335999999999997) (looses q 0.0562 0.0258 0.0165 0.0388 0.0725 0.0269 0.0258 0.1881)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.2763) (bps q 4 9 14 21 27 32 39 47) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.1043) (looseness-sd . 0.10113470518941557) (looseness-variance . 0.010228228593750001) (looses q 0.0562 0.273 0.0368 -0.002 0.2382 0.1694 -0.0033 0.0662 0.6545)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.2763) (bps q 4 9 14 20 27 32 39 47) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.1043) (looseness-sd . 0.08167757399525283) (looseness-variance . 0.0066712260937500005) (looses q 0.0562 0.273 0.0368 0.1041 0.1321 0.1694 -0.0033 0.0662 0.6545)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.056) (bps q 4 11 20 27 35 42 49) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0375) (looseness-sd . 0.01852997571504075) (looseness-variance . 0.00034335999999999997) (looses q 0.0562 0.0258 0.0165 0.0388 0.0725 0.0269 0.0258 0.1881)) (fh-improved . 42) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1549) (bps q 6 12 18 23 31 39 45 51 57 63 70 76 84) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0898) (looseness-sd . 0.04317174728122096) (looseness-variance . 0.0018637997633136091) (looses q 0.0675 0.0681 0.1303 0.1037 0.0755 0.0065 0.0374 0.1614 0.0444 0.1291 0.1314 0.1226 0.0897 0.6435)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.2725) (bps q 6 11 16 21 27 33 39 44 49 54 59 66 73) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.105) (looseness-sd . 0.07737524411830224) (looseness-variance . 0.0059869284023668645) (looses q 0.0675 0.0681 0.1303 0.1037 0.0755 0.0065 0.0374 0.279 0.134 0.2524 0.0354 0.1097 0.0654 0.4661)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.217) (bps q 6 11 16 21 27 32 38 44 49 54 59 66 73) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.1062) (looseness-sd . 0.05313946259802691) (looseness-variance . 0.002823802485207101) (looses q 0.0675 0.0681 0.1303 0.1037 0.0755 0.1114 0.1542 0.0736 0.134 0.2524 0.0354 0.1097 0.0654 0.4661)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1549) (bps q 6 12 18 23 31 39 45 51 57 63 70 76 84) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0898) (looseness-sd . 0.04317174728122096) (looseness-variance . 0.0018637997633136091) (looses q 0.0675 0.0681 0.1303 0.1037 0.0755 0.0065 0.0374 0.1614 0.0444 0.1291 0.1314 0.1226 0.0897 0.6435)) (fh-improved . 77) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them at each tread.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1216) (bps q 7 15 22 28 35 41 47 54 60 67 76 84 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0569) (looseness-sd . 0.03881497453974059) (looseness-variance . 0.00150660224852071) (looses q -0.0032 0.0624 0.0286 0.108 0.1049 0.0828 0.0732 0.1184 0.0067 0.0352 0.0416 0.011 0.0702 0.8383)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.2477) (bps q 7 14 19 25 31 36 40 47 53 60 66 71 77) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0598) (looseness-sd . 0.06353426881305449) (looseness-variance . 0.004036603313609468) (looses q -0.0032 0.0624 0.0286 0.0581 0.0303 0.2445 0.0732 0.0027 0.0064 0.0733 0.1196 0.011 0.0702 0.8383)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.2339) (bps q 7 14 19 24 30 35 40 46 52 59 66 71 77) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0586) (looseness-sd . 0.061874890950833324) (looseness-variance . 0.003828502130177515) (looses q -0.0032 0.0624 0.0286 0.108 0.2291 0.0582 -0.0048 0.1184 0.0067 0.0352 0.0416 0.011 0.0702 0.8383)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1688) (bps q 7 15 22 29 36 42 48 55 61 68 76 84 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0581) (looseness-sd . 0.048192218675097355) (looseness-variance . 0.0023224899408284022) (looses q -0.0032 0.0624 0.0286 0.0581 0.0303 0.1114 0.0217 0.1656 0.0064 0.0733 0.1196 0.011 0.0702 0.8383)) (fh-improved . 88) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 7)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 26) (looseness-spread . 0.1476) (bps q 4 12 19 25 32 39 45 53 61 67 73 80 87 94 103 110 118 125 133 140 148 155 161 168 174) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0636) (looseness-sd . 0.037739464755080984) (looseness-variance . 0.0014242672) (looses q 0.0504 0.0343 0.0913 0.0284 0.022 0.0941 0.1038 -0.0118 0.0445 0.1131 0.0529 0.1091 0.0606 0.0885 0.0464 0.0358 0.125 0.0842 0.0645 0.0753 -0.0072 0.0713 0.1358 0.0412 0.0355 0.6389)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 26) (looseness-spread . 0.298) (bps q 4 12 18 23 29 34 40 46 51 56 63 70 76 82 87 94 100 106 114 121 126 130 137 143 147) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0845) (looseness-sd . 0.07172377971077654) (looseness-variance . 0.005144300576) (looses q 0.0504 0.0343 0.0913 0.0284 0.1805 0.09 0.1134 0.0303 0.163 0.0095 0.0413 0.0922 0.0634 0.2584 0.0996 0.0467 0.0314 0.0313 0.0191 0.0618 0.3075 0.0646 0.0432 0.0675 0.0942 0.1769)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 26) (looseness-spread . 0.173) (bps q 4 11 17 22 28 33 39 44 50 55 62 69 74 82 87 94 100 105 112 119 126 130 137 143 147) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0831) (looseness-sd . 0.04401425696294327) (looseness-variance . 0.001937254816) (looses q 0.0504 0.1817 0.0923 0.1371 0.093 0.1462 0.0634 0.0764 0.0908 0.0087 0.1246 0.0247 0.0979 0.0241 0.0996 0.0467 0.0314 0.1637 0.1238 0.052 0.0802 0.0646 0.0432 0.0675 0.0942 0.1769)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 38) (line-count . 26) (looseness-spread . 0.1543) (bps q 4 12 19 25 32 39 45 53 61 67 74 81 88 95 105 111 119 126 133 140 148 155 161 168 174) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0605) (looseness-sd . 0.04446823297591214) (looseness-variance . 0.001977423744) (looses q 0.0504 0.0343 0.0913 0.0284 0.022 0.0941 0.1038 -0.0118 0.0445 0.1131 0.0029 0.0325 0.0906 0.0397 -0.0071 0.0622 0.1158 0.111 0.1425 0.0753 -0.0072 0.0713 0.1358 0.0412 0.0355 0.6389)) (fh-improved . 326) (bu-improved . 19) (bh-improved . 9)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1523) (bps q 8 16 24 30 37 45) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0696) (looseness-sd . 0.050512190497828235) (looseness-variance . 0.002551481388888889) (looses q -0.0105 0.0799 0.1145 0.0311 0.1418 0.0609 0.6127)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.2999) (bps q 6 14 19 24 31 38) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.1108) (looseness-sd . 0.09592665021891582) (looseness-variance . 0.009201922222222221) (looses q -0.0105 0.03 0.2894 0.1526 0.1107 0.0928 0.4468)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1492) (bps q 5 11 18 24 31 38) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.1108) (looseness-sd . 0.046710265348089045) (looseness-variance . 0.0021818488888888884) (looses q 0.1862 0.0918 0.1465 0.037 0.1107 0.0928 0.4468)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1749) (bps q 8 17 24 30 37 45) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0696) (looseness-sd . 0.06290467435378357) (looseness-variance . 0.003956998055555556) (looses q -0.0105 0.03 0.1644 0.0311 0.1418 0.0609 0.6127)) (fh-improved . 29) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1597) (bps q 5 11 19 25) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0836) (looseness-sd . 0.06253714895963838) (looseness-variance . 0.003910894999999999) (looses q 0.0573 0.1541 -0.0056 0.1286 0.5565)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1565) (bps q 5 12 18 24) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0836) (looseness-sd . 0.06151759910789757) (looseness-variance . 0.0037844149999999997) (looses q 0.0573 -0.004 0.1525 0.1286 0.5565)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1597) (bps q 5 11 18 24) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0836) (looseness-sd . 0.06253714895963838) (looseness-variance . 0.003910894999999999) (looses q 0.0573 0.1541 -0.0056 0.1286 0.5565)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1565) (bps q 5 12 19 25) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0836) (looseness-sd . 0.06151759910789757) (looseness-variance . 0.0037844149999999997) (looses q 0.0573 -0.004 0.1525 0.1286 0.5565)) (fh-improved . 2) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of mischty.”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1445) (bps q 6 12 20 26 31 37 43 49 56 62 69 76 82 89 96 102 110 119 125) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0802) (looseness-sd . 0.043521048494376394) (looseness-variance . 0.0018940816620498615) (looses q 0.1442 0.0417 0.0637 0.1651 0.1268 0.1547 0.0933 0.0473 0.0292 0.0782 0.0811 0.097 0.0444 0.0512 0.0206 0.13 0.0338 0.0638 0.0581 0.1933)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1445) (bps q 5 10 17 23 28 33 39 45 51 57 64 71 76 82 89 93 100 109 115) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0814) (looseness-sd . 0.04377180438051145) (looseness-variance . 0.0019159708587257616) (looses q 0.0542 0.1533 0.0637 0.1651 0.1268 0.1547 0.0933 0.0473 0.0292 0.0782 0.0811 0.097 0.0444 0.0512 0.0206 0.13 0.0338 0.0638 0.0581 0.1933)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1445) (bps q 5 10 17 23 28 33 39 45 51 57 64 71 76 82 89 93 100 109 115) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0814) (looseness-sd . 0.04377180438051145) (looseness-variance . 0.0019159708587257616) (looses q 0.0542 0.1533 0.0637 0.1651 0.1268 0.1547 0.0933 0.0473 0.0292 0.0782 0.0811 0.097 0.0444 0.0512 0.0206 0.13 0.0338 0.0638 0.0581 0.1933)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1445) (bps q 7 12 20 26 31 37 43 49 56 62 69 76 82 89 96 102 110 119 125) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0814) (looseness-sd . 0.04377180438051145) (looseness-variance . 0.0019159708587257616) (looses q 0.0542 0.1533 0.0637 0.1651 0.1268 0.1547 0.0933 0.0473 0.0292 0.0782 0.0811 0.097 0.0444 0.0512 0.0206 0.13 0.0338 0.0638 0.0581 0.1933)) (fh-improved . 104) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, and only secondarily from a moral one.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1888) (bps q 5 12 20 27 34) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.1027) (looseness-sd . 0.06832468368020447) (looseness-variance . 0.0046682624) (looses q 0.2242 0.0354 0.0395 0.1042 0.11 0.283)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.2718) (bps q 5 10 16 21 26) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.1421) (looseness-sd . 0.10709479912675497) (looseness-variance . 0.011469295999999999) (looses q 0.2242 0.0354 0.0395 0.1042 0.3072 0.1074)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1888) (bps q 5 10 15 20 26) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.1454) (looseness-sd . 0.06390935455784232) (looseness-variance . 0.0040844056) (looses q 0.2242 0.0354 0.1767 0.1215 0.1691 0.1074)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1888) (bps q 5 12 20 27 34) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.1027) (looseness-sd . 0.06832468368020447) (looseness-variance . 0.0046682624) (looses q 0.2242 0.0354 0.0395 0.1042 0.11 0.283)) (fh-improved . 20) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy side of the family, and never will be!”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1716) (bps q 5 11 15 21 28 35 41 46 51 59) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.1324) (looseness-sd . 0.05110652111032407) (looseness-variance . 0.0026118765) (looses q 0.2203 0.1186 0.1051 0.1507 0.0939 0.1235 0.0908 0.2086 0.1643 0.0487 0.4527)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1652) (bps q 6 11 15 21 27 32 35 40 45 52) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.1324) (looseness-sd . 0.04989882263140084) (looseness-variance . 0.0024898925000000002) (looses q 0.125 0.2139 0.1051 0.1507 0.0939 0.1235 0.0908 0.2086 0.1643 0.0487 0.4527)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1716) (bps q 5 11 15 21 27 32 35 40 45 52) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.1324) (looseness-sd . 0.05110652111032407) (looseness-variance . 0.0026118765) (looses q 0.2203 0.1186 0.1051 0.1507 0.0939 0.1235 0.0908 0.2086 0.1643 0.0487 0.4527)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1652) (bps q 6 11 15 21 28 35 41 46 51 59) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.1324) (looseness-sd . 0.04989882263140084) (looseness-variance . 0.0024898925000000002) (looses q 0.125 0.2139 0.1051 0.1507 0.0939 0.1235 0.0908 0.2086 0.1643 0.0487 0.4527)) (fh-improved . 29) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1697) (bps q 7 12 19) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 18.773111111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.109) (looseness-sd . 0.0766057584142486) (looseness-variance . 0.005868442222222221) (looses q 0.1707 0.1552 0.001 0.0606)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1697) (bps q 5 10 16) (piece-count . 21) (avg-piece-length . 24.136857142857142) (avg-looseness . 0.109) (looseness-sd . 0.0766057584142486) (looseness-variance . 0.005868442222222221) (looses q 0.1707 0.1552 0.001 0.0606)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1697) (bps q 5 10 16) (piece-count . 21) (avg-piece-length . 24.136857142857142) (avg-looseness . 0.109) (looseness-sd . 0.0766057584142486) (looseness-variance . 0.005868442222222221) (looses q 0.1707 0.1552 0.001 0.0606)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1697) (bps q 7 12 19) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 18.773111111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.109) (looseness-sd . 0.0766057584142486) (looseness-variance . 0.005868442222222221) (looses q 0.1707 0.1552 0.001 0.0606)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.2192) (bps q 5 12 19 27 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0858) (looseness-sd . 0.07936603807674918) (looseness-variance . 0.006298967999999999) (looses q 0.2315 0.0414 0.1073 0.0123 0.0365 0.0604)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.2192) (bps q 5 10 17 25 33) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0858) (looseness-sd . 0.07936603807674918) (looseness-variance . 0.006298967999999999) (looses q 0.2315 0.0414 0.1073 0.0123 0.0365 0.0604)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.2192) (bps q 5 10 17 25 33) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0858) (looseness-sd . 0.07936603807674918) (looseness-variance . 0.006298967999999999) (looses q 0.2315 0.0414 0.1073 0.0123 0.0365 0.0604)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.2192) (bps q 5 12 19 27 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0858) (looseness-sd . 0.07936603807674918) (looseness-variance . 0.006298967999999999) (looses q 0.2315 0.0414 0.1073 0.0123 0.0365 0.0604)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor folk in Christminster with we.”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1153) (bps q 5 11 17 24 31) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.1302) (looseness-sd . 0.04009949625618756) (looseness-variance . 0.0016079696) (looses q 0.1867 0.0714 0.1006 0.1452 0.1472 0.2928)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1712) (bps q 6 11 17 23 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.1302) (looseness-sd . 0.06748874276499747) (looseness-variance . 0.004554730399999999) (looses q 0.0903 0.0524 0.0872 0.1977 0.2236 0.2928)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1153) (bps q 5 10 16 22 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.1302) (looseness-sd . 0.04009949625618756) (looseness-variance . 0.0016079696) (looses q 0.1867 0.0714 0.1006 0.1452 0.1472 0.2928)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1712) (bps q 6 12 18 25 31) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.1302) (looseness-sd . 0.06748874276499747) (looseness-variance . 0.004554730399999999) (looses q 0.0903 0.0524 0.0872 0.1977 0.2236 0.2928)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 53) (line-count . 32) (looseness-spread . 0.2343) (bps q 7 15 21 29 36 42 49 55 62 67 74 80 86 93 99 104 112 118 125 131 138 148 156 165 172 180 186 192 200 206 213) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0736) (looseness-sd . 0.04903002499159448) (looseness-variance . 0.002403943350676379) (looses q 0.0047 0.0527 0.0681 0.11 0.1488 0.0823 0.0455 0.0831 0.0623 0.1336 0.1269 0.0371 0.0522 0.2266 0.0911 0.0693 0.0949 0.028 0.0156 0.1113 0.0466 -0.0077 0.0576 -0.0068 0.0675 0.0248 0.1187 0.0857 0.0417 0.093 0.1173 0.2988)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 32) (looseness-spread . 0.3074) (bps q 6 13 18 26 34 38 43 50 57 62 68 71 75 78 85 90 97 103 107 112 118 126 134 140 146 152 157 162 167 173 179) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0753) (looseness-sd . 0.06931918678553363) (looseness-variance . 0.0048051496566077) (looses q 0.0047 0.0527 0.0681 0.0295 0.0335 0.2997 0.0455 0.0183 0.0366 0.1239 0.0532 0.2265 0.0522 0.2266 -0.0 0.028 0.1232 0.0696 0.0936 0.1113 0.0466 -0.0077 0.0576 -0.0068 0.0675 0.0248 0.1187 0.0857 0.0417 0.093 0.1173 0.2988)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 32) (looseness-spread . 0.2343) (bps q 6 13 18 25 32 38 43 49 56 61 66 71 75 78 84 89 96 102 107 112 118 126 134 140 146 152 157 162 167 173 179) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0743) (looseness-sd . 0.05157802712797526) (looseness-variance . 0.002660292882414152) (looses q 0.0047 0.0527 0.0681 0.1953 0.0851 0.0823 0.0455 0.0831 0.0623 0.1336 0.1269 0.0371 0.0522 0.2266 0.0911 0.0693 0.0949 0.028 0.0156 0.1113 0.0466 -0.0077 0.0576 -0.0068 0.0675 0.0248 0.1187 0.0857 0.0417 0.093 0.1173 0.2988)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 32) (looseness-spread . 0.2343) (bps q 7 15 21 30 38 43 51 57 63 68 76 80 86 93 100 105 113 119 125 131 138 148 156 165 172 180 186 192 200 207 213) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0734) (looseness-sd . 0.061881835299726164) (looseness-variance . 0.0038293615400624348) (looses q 0.0047 0.0527 0.0681 0.0295 0.0335 0.0647 0.0169 0.1334 0.148 0.1239 0.0532 0.2265 0.0522 0.2266 -0.0 0.028 0.1232 0.0696 0.0936 0.1113 0.0466 -0.0077 0.0576 -0.0068 0.0675 0.0248 0.1187 0.0857 0.0417 0.0077 0.181 0.2988)) (fh-improved . 491) (bu-improved . 12) (bh-improved . 17)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a man.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.011) (bps q 8 16) (piece-count . 18) (avg-piece-length . 16.88711111111111) (avg-looseness . 0.0348) (looseness-sd . 0.005500000000000001) (looseness-variance . 3.0250000000000017e-05) (looses q 0.0293 0.0403 0.7247)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.011) (bps q 6 13) (piece-count . 15) (avg-piece-length . 20.264533333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0348) (looseness-sd . 0.005500000000000001) (looseness-variance . 3.0250000000000017e-05) (looses q 0.0293 0.0403 0.7247)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.011) (bps q 6 13) (piece-count . 15) (avg-piece-length . 20.264533333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0348) (looseness-sd . 0.005500000000000001) (looseness-variance . 3.0250000000000017e-05) (looses q 0.0293 0.0403 0.7247)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 2) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.011) (bps q 8 16) (piece-count . 18) (avg-piece-length . 16.88711111111111) (avg-looseness . 0.0348) (looseness-sd . 0.005500000000000001) (looseness-variance . 3.0250000000000017e-05) (looses q 0.0293 0.0403 0.7247)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1504) (bps q 7 13 19 27 34 41 48 54) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0891) (looseness-sd . 0.05259096880644052) (looseness-variance . 0.00276581) (looses q 0.1042 0.1419 0.0916 0.0053 0.0044 0.1114 0.0988 0.1548 0.2493)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.3701) (bps q 6 10 15 21 27 33 39 44) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.118) (looseness-sd . 0.10619954610896414) (looseness-variance . 0.01127834359375) (looses q 0.1042 0.1419 -0.0053 0.1239 0.0044 0.1114 0.0988 0.3648 0.061)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.21) (bps q 6 10 15 21 26 31 38 44) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.1181) (looseness-sd . 0.056339611952870246) (looseness-variance . 0.003174151875) (looses q 0.1042 0.1419 -0.0053 0.1239 0.2047 0.0935 0.1514 0.1307 0.061)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1601) (bps q 7 13 20 27 34 41 48 54) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0918) (looseness-sd . 0.056084198699366296) (looseness-variance . 0.00314543734375) (looses q 0.1042 0.1419 -0.0053 0.1239 0.0044 0.1114 0.0988 0.1548 0.2493)) (fh-improved . 49) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.”") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0045) (bps q 7 13 20) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 19.480574074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0264) (looseness-sd . 0.0018408935028645438) (looseness-variance . 3.3888888888888897e-06) (looses q 0.0266 0.0241 0.0286 0.135)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0045) (bps q 5 10 17) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 22.8685) (avg-looseness . 0.0264) (looseness-sd . 0.0018408935028645438) (looseness-variance . 3.3888888888888897e-06) (looses q 0.0266 0.0241 0.0286 0.135)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0045) (bps q 5 10 17) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 22.8685) (avg-looseness . 0.0264) (looseness-sd . 0.0018408935028645438) (looseness-variance . 3.3888888888888897e-06) (looses q 0.0266 0.0241 0.0286 0.135)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0045) (bps q 7 13 20) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 19.480574074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0264) (looseness-sd . 0.0018408935028645438) (looseness-variance . 3.3888888888888897e-06) (looses q 0.0266 0.0241 0.0286 0.135)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak open down.") (measure . 150) (bh h - (equal) (time . 44) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.2012) (bps q 5 11 17 24 30 37 43 49 55 62 69 76 84 92 98 104 111 118 125 131 138 146 151 157) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0846) (looseness-sd . 0.04467881597829359) (looseness-variance . 0.001996196597222222) (looses q 0.1325 0.1906 0.1396 0.0921 -0.0106 0.1083 0.0595 0.0617 0.1366 0.0372 0.0966 0.0499 0.1103 0.1122 0.0237 0.117 0.0746 0.0454 0.1142 0.0326 0.0374 0.0726 0.0936 0.1038 0.8265)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 40) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.2888) (bps q 4 9 15 20 24 29 33 39 44 51 58 63 70 76 81 85 89 95 101 107 113 119 124 130) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.1009) (looseness-sd . 0.06827386525665098) (looseness-variance . 0.004661320677083333) (looses q 0.2782 0.069 0.1396 0.0921 -0.0106 0.1083 0.0595 0.0617 0.1366 0.0372 0.0966 0.0499 0.1103 0.1122 0.0237 0.2582 0.1592 0.0151 0.07 0.0432 0.1679 0.1604 0.0903 0.0939 0.4813)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.2888) (bps q 4 9 15 20 24 29 33 39 44 50 57 62 69 75 80 84 89 94 100 106 112 119 124 130) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.103) (looseness-sd . 0.05219679890541395) (looseness-variance . 0.0027245058159722224) (looses q 0.2782 0.069 0.1396 0.0921 -0.0106 0.1083 0.0595 0.0617 0.1366 0.1153 0.1476 0.0856 0.0968 0.1027 0.1561 0.1407 0.0531 0.1308 0.1037 0.0749 0.1025 0.0447 0.0903 0.0939 0.4813)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.2035) (bps q 5 11 17 24 30 37 43 49 55 62 69 76 84 92 98 105 111 118 125 131 138 146 152 157) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0846) (looseness-sd . 0.05549395597094836) (looseness-variance . 0.003079579149305555) (looses q 0.1325 0.1906 0.1396 0.0921 -0.0106 0.1083 0.0595 0.0617 0.1366 0.0372 0.0966 0.0499 0.1103 0.1122 0.0237 0.0279 0.1637 0.0454 0.1142 0.0326 0.0374 0.0726 0.0046 0.1929 0.8265)) (fh-improved . 356) (bu-improved . 11) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in moving house.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 47) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1702) (bps q 9 16 24 32 42 49 59 66 73 82 91 100 109 118 126 134 141 150 161) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0571) (looseness-sd . 0.046188502724525696) (looseness-variance . 0.0021333777839335176) (looses q 0.0568 0.0046 -0.0116 0.033 0.1239 0.118 0.0604 0.0099 0.0177 0.0275 0.0657 0.1586 0.0289 0.082 0.0347 0.1332 0.0762 0.0307 0.0349 0.1947)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 21) (looseness-spread . 0.2103) (bps q 5 10 17 24 32 37 43 48 53 59 64 70 77 85 93 98 103 110 116 123) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.1035) (looseness-sd . 0.062063867104781664) (looseness-variance . 0.0038519236) (looses q 0.1379 0.0759 0.0163 0.1188 0.1912 0.1163 0.2261 0.2099 0.0348 0.1783 0.0665 0.1377 0.0572 0.0158 0.0412 0.0955 0.1402 0.0377 0.0775 0.0956 0.3087)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 40) (line-count . 21) (looseness-spread . 0.1987) (bps q 5 10 16 23 31 36 43 48 53 59 64 70 77 85 93 98 103 110 116 123) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.1028) (looseness-sd . 0.05460400534759332) (looseness-variance . 0.0029815974) (looses q 0.1379 0.0759 0.1127 0.0875 0.2145 0.1129 0.1275 0.2099 0.0348 0.1783 0.0665 0.1377 0.0572 0.0158 0.0412 0.0955 0.1402 0.0377 0.0775 0.0956 0.3087)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1702) (bps q 9 16 24 32 42 50 60 66 73 82 91 100 109 119 126 135 142 151 162) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0502) (looseness-sd . 0.04296106270318808) (looseness-variance . 0.0018456529085872577) (looses q 0.0568 0.0046 -0.0116 0.033 0.1239 0.0489 0.0511 0.1063 0.0177 0.0275 0.0657 0.1586 0.0289 0.0184 0.0983 0.0264 0.0622 0.029 0.0084 0.3087)) (fh-improved . 445) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 7)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and everything would be smooth again.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0768) (bps q 9 18 25 32 39 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.062) (looseness-sd . 0.025213119380371973) (looseness-variance . 0.0006357013888888888) (looses q 0.0544 0.0619 0.0962 0.0522 0.0194 0.088 0.8627)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1228) (bps q 8 16 24 30 36 42) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.062) (looseness-sd . 0.04160554516995167) (looseness-variance . 0.0017310213888888889) (looses q 0.0544 0.0619 0.0128 0.1356 0.0194 0.088 0.8627)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0768) (bps q 8 16 23 30 36 42) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.062) (looseness-sd . 0.025213119380371973) (looseness-variance . 0.0006357013888888888) (looses q 0.0544 0.0619 0.0962 0.0522 0.0194 0.088 0.8627)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1228) (bps q 9 18 26 32 39 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.062) (looseness-sd . 0.04160554516995167) (looseness-variance . 0.0017310213888888889) (looses q 0.0544 0.0619 0.0128 0.1356 0.0194 0.088 0.8627)) (fh-improved . 14) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary lodgings just at first.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1127) (bps q 7 15 25 33 42 50 59 68 77) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0392) (looseness-sd . 0.03552796846443484) (looseness-variance . 0.0012622365432098763) (looses q 0.0727 0.0673 -0.0082 0.0131 0.0268 0.1045 0.057 0.0148 0.0047 0.8334)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1122) (bps q 6 11 17 23 32 40 47 56 62) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0412) (looseness-sd . 0.037380713981648044) (looseness-variance . 0.0013973177777777776) (looses q 0.0727 -0.0077 0.0849 0.0131 0.0268 0.1045 0.057 0.0148 0.0047 0.8334)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1122) (bps q 6 11 17 23 32 40 47 56 62) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0412) (looseness-sd . 0.037380713981648044) (looseness-variance . 0.0013973177777777776) (looses q 0.0727 -0.0077 0.0849 0.0131 0.0268 0.1045 0.057 0.0148 0.0047 0.8334)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1122) (bps q 7 16 25 33 42 50 59 68 77) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0412) (looseness-sd . 0.037380713981648044) (looseness-variance . 0.0013973177777777776) (looses q 0.0727 -0.0077 0.0849 0.0131 0.0268 0.1045 0.057 0.0148 0.0047 0.8334)) (fh-improved . 83) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve found a place to settle in, sir.”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1286) (bps q 9 17 25 32 40 47 56) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0957) (looseness-sd . 0.04913028909056458) (looseness-variance . 0.002413785306122449) (looses q 0.0918 0.0795 0.0732 0.0449 0.1664 0.1715 0.0429 0.0824)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1865) (bps q 8 13 21 27 35 43 50) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0983) (looseness-sd . 0.05931450935823513) (looseness-variance . 0.003518211020408163) (looses q 0.0918 0.0795 0.0732 0.2148 0.0283 0.0498 0.151 0.0824)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1704) (bps q 8 13 20 27 35 42 50) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.1003) (looseness-sd . 0.05837887163230568) (looseness-variance . 0.0034080926530612246) (looses q 0.0918 0.0795 0.1987 0.0893 0.0283 0.1715 0.0429 0.0824)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1215) (bps q 9 17 25 32 40 48 56) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0938) (looseness-sd . 0.04391982955990868) (looseness-variance . 0.0019289514285714283) (looses q 0.0918 0.0795 0.0732 0.0449 0.1664 0.0498 0.151 0.0824)) (fh-improved . 30) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy and the schoolmaster were left standing alone.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1318) (bps q 10 18 27 34 42 50 60 69) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.062) (looseness-sd . 0.045817675355696516) (looseness-variance . 0.002099259375) (looses q -0.001 0.0131 0.1171 0.1308 0.0546 0.0841 0.0785 0.019 0.6274)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.2505) (bps q 7 15 22 28 36 42 47 54) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0784) (looseness-sd . 0.07905380979908558) (looseness-variance . 0.00624950484375) (looses q -0.001 0.0131 0.1171 0.1308 0.0546 0.2495 0.0529 0.0099 0.5285)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1541) (bps q 7 15 22 28 35 42 47 54) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0784) (looseness-sd . 0.06225475759931927) (looseness-variance . 0.00387565484375) (looses q -0.001 0.0131 0.1171 0.1308 0.151 0.1531 0.0529 0.0099 0.5285)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1318) (bps q 10 18 27 34 42 51 61 69) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.062) (looseness-sd . 0.04842682463005395) (looseness-variance . 0.00234515734375) (looses q -0.001 0.0131 0.1171 0.1308 0.0546 0.0284 0.0378 0.1155 0.6274)) (fh-improved . 61) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, but one who had attended the night school only during the present teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0645) (bps q 8 17 26 34 41 48 58 65 75 85) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.02488954800714549) (looseness-variance . 0.0006194896) (looses q 0.0678 0.0722 0.0286 0.0774 0.0153 0.0129 0.0251 0.0642 0.0632 0.0745 0.6621)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.3116) (bps q 8 14 18 25 32 38 45 52 58 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0992) (looseness-sd . 0.09683301296562036) (looseness-variance . 0.0093766324) (looses q 0.0678 0.2243 0.103 -0.0081 -0.0002 0.0808 -0.0029 0.1501 0.0741 0.3035 0.1992)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1564) (bps q 7 14 18 24 31 37 43 51 57 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0993) (looseness-sd . 0.048435177299149014) (looseness-variance . 0.0023459664) (looses q 0.1438 0.1483 0.103 0.0994 0.0166 0.0216 0.173 0.114 0.0762 0.0967 0.1992)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0645) (bps q 8 17 26 34 41 48 58 65 75 85) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.02488954800714549) (looseness-variance . 0.0006194896) (looses q 0.0678 0.0722 0.0286 0.0774 0.0153 0.0129 0.0251 0.0642 0.0632 0.0745 0.6621)) (fh-improved . 105) (bu-improved . 8) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that he was sorry.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0638) (bps q 8 16 25) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0224) (looseness-sd . 0.02623140611302922) (looseness-variance . 0.0006880866666666667) (looses q -0.0117 0.0268 0.0521 0.2154)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0638) (bps q 7 14 22) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0224) (looseness-sd . 0.02623140611302922) (looseness-variance . 0.0006880866666666667) (looses q -0.0117 0.0268 0.0521 0.2154)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0638) (bps q 7 14 22) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0224) (looseness-sd . 0.02623140611302922) (looseness-variance . 0.0006880866666666667) (looses q -0.0117 0.0268 0.0521 0.2154)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0638) (bps q 8 16 25) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0224) (looseness-sd . 0.02623140611302922) (looseness-variance . 0.0006880866666666667) (looses q -0.0117 0.0268 0.0521 0.2154)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1618) (bps q 7 14 22) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 21.266999999999996) (avg-looseness . 0.0947) (looseness-sd . 0.07487689155466384) (looseness-variance . 0.00560654888888889) (looses q 0.2005 0.0448 0.0387 0.8536)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1721) (bps q 8 13 19) (piece-count . 20) (avg-piece-length . 24.457049999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0901) (looseness-sd . 0.07159070392787663) (looseness-variance . 0.0051252288888888895) (looses q 0.0707 0.0138 0.1859 0.8536)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1618) (bps q 7 12 19) (piece-count . 20) (avg-piece-length . 24.457049999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0947) (looseness-sd . 0.07487689155466384) (looseness-variance . 0.00560654888888889) (looses q 0.2005 0.0448 0.0387 0.8536)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1721) (bps q 8 15 22) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 21.266999999999996) (avg-looseness . 0.0901) (looseness-sd . 0.07159070392787663) (looseness-variance . 0.0051252288888888895) (looses q 0.0707 0.0138 0.1859 0.8536)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should have elsewhere.”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1893) (bps q 6 15 25 35 44 55 63 73 83 94 102 113) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0616) (looseness-sd . 0.04491648654880399) (looseness-variance . 0.0020174907638888895) (looses q 0.1841 0.05 0.0695 0.0196 -0.0052 0.0793 0.0799 0.0326 0.0466 0.0661 0.0355 0.0807 0.2461)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.3531) (bps q 5 10 17 25 32 40 47 54 62 69 78 85 92) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0997) (looseness-sd . 0.10129553516215303) (looseness-variance . 0.010260785443786983) (looses q 0.341 0.2375 -0.0121 0.0065 0.0598 0.0232 0.0478 0.0488 0.1443 0.032 0.0269 0.1842 0.1567 0.7278)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.3531) (bps q 5 10 17 25 32 40 47 54 62 69 77 84 92) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0997) (looseness-sd . 0.09648837805970062) (looseness-variance . 0.009310007100591716) (looses q 0.341 0.2375 -0.0121 0.0065 0.0598 0.0232 0.0478 0.0488 0.1443 0.032 0.1508 0.1253 0.0918 0.7278)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1905) (bps q 6 15 26 36 44 55 63 73 83 94 102 113) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0615) (looseness-sd . 0.045412855344665964) (looseness-variance . 0.002062327430555556) (looses q 0.1841 0.05 0.0162 -0.0064 0.0735 0.0793 0.0799 0.0326 0.0466 0.0661 0.0355 0.0807 0.2461)) (fh-improved . 186) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.2244) (bps q 7 13 21 30 38 46 52 61) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0954) (looseness-sd . 0.065516677266174) (looseness-variance . 0.004292435000000001) (looses q 0.2378 0.1551 0.0808 0.0633 0.0134 0.0733 0.0507 0.0888 0.0182)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.2199) (bps q 5 10 15 21 26 33 39 45 52) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.1275) (looseness-sd . 0.07272030809805843) (looseness-variance . 0.005288243209876543) (looses q 0.2378 0.1551 0.2462 0.0339 0.1147 0.1171 0.125 0.0263 0.0915 0.666)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.2199) (bps q 5 10 15 20 26 33 39 45 52) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.1275) (looseness-sd . 0.07113382449759272) (looseness-variance . 0.005060020987654321) (looses q 0.2378 0.1551 0.2462 0.0989 0.0497 0.1171 0.125 0.0263 0.0915 0.666)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.2383) (bps q 7 13 22 31 39 47 53 61) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0954) (looseness-sd . 0.07767529268531918) (looseness-variance . 0.0060334510937499995) (looses q 0.2378 0.1551 0.0251 0.0226 -0.0005 0.0872 0.0737 0.1621 0.0182)) (fh-improved . 79) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0869) (bps q 8 16 23 30) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0668) (looseness-sd . 0.0314573123454627) (looseness-variance . 0.0009895625) (looses q 0.0298 0.0574 0.0635 0.1167 0.3494)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0869) (bps q 7 14 20 25) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.0668) (looseness-sd . 0.0314573123454627) (looseness-variance . 0.0009895625) (looses q 0.0298 0.0574 0.0635 0.1167 0.3494)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0869) (bps q 7 14 20 25) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.0668) (looseness-sd . 0.0314573123454627) (looseness-variance . 0.0009895625) (looses q 0.0298 0.0574 0.0635 0.1167 0.3494)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0869) (bps q 8 16 23 30) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0668) (looseness-sd . 0.0314573123454627) (looseness-variance . 0.0009895625) (looses q 0.0298 0.0574 0.0635 0.1167 0.3494)) (fh-improved . 11) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. “Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt me out for old acquaintance’ sake.”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1205) (bps q 8 17 25 34 42 51) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0719) (looseness-sd . 0.04481349003245439) (looseness-variance . 0.002008248888888889) (looses q 0.1329 0.0726 0.0865 0.0165 0.1107 0.0124 0.5019)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1164) (bps q 7 15 22 30 37 44) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.075) (looseness-sd . 0.04527168909300086) (looseness-variance . 0.0020495258333333333) (looses q 0.1329 0.0726 0.0865 0.0165 0.0189 0.1223 0.5019)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1164) (bps q 7 15 22 30 37 44) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.075) (looseness-sd . 0.04527168909300086) (looseness-variance . 0.0020495258333333333) (looses q 0.1329 0.0726 0.0865 0.0165 0.0189 0.1223 0.5019)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1164) (bps q 8 17 25 34 43 51) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.075) (looseness-sd . 0.04527168909300086) (looseness-variance . 0.0020495258333333333) (looses q 0.1329 0.0726 0.0865 0.0165 0.0189 0.1223 0.5019)) (fh-improved . 23) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the hart’s-tongue fern.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 51) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1477) (bps q 6 15 22 31 38 46 54 63 73 80 87 96 104 112 121 130 138 149 160 169 178) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0583) (looseness-sd . 0.045631963575691575) (looseness-variance . 0.0020822760997732427) (looses q 0.14 0.0649 0.0698 0.1379 0.0086 0.0976 0.044 0.0574 -0.0025 0.0971 0.0729 0.1302 0.0851 0.017 -0.0077 0.0036 0.0198 0.0776 -0.0027 0.0706 0.0429 0.1511)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 23) (looseness-spread . 0.3014) (bps q 7 13 20 27 33 40 46 55 62 68 74 80 87 94 102 109 115 121 128 135 142 150) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0964) (looseness-sd . 0.07431002123669692) (looseness-variance . 0.005521979256198347) (looses q 0.0183 0.0765 0.0047 0.2994 0.1473 0.1587 0.158 0.0514 0.07 0.1219 0.173 -0.002 0.0742 0.1188 0.0063 0.1611 0.1407 0.1038 0.0286 0.1669 0.0183 0.0243 0.3286)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 23) (looseness-spread . 0.1614) (bps q 6 12 18 27 33 40 46 54 61 67 74 80 87 94 101 109 115 121 127 135 142 150) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.097) (looseness-sd . 0.04551576445639013) (looseness-variance . 0.0020716848140495867) (looses q 0.14 0.0649 0.0698 0.1379 0.1473 0.1587 0.158 0.1594 0.1143 0.0776 0.0649 -0.002 0.0742 0.1188 0.0822 0.0851 0.1407 0.1038 0.0936 0.1019 0.0183 0.0243 0.3286)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.3098) (bps q 7 16 24 31 38 47 55 64 73 80 87 97 104 112 121 130 138 150 161 170 178) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0585) (looseness-sd . 0.06889281530029093) (looseness-variance . 0.00474622) (looses q 0.0183 0.0765 0.0047 0.2994 0.0086 -0.0104 0.1105 0.024 0.0905 0.0971 0.0729 0.0886 0.1267 0.017 -0.0077 0.0036 0.0198 0.0027 0.0254 0.0516 0.1087 0.1511)) (fh-improved . 325) (bu-improved . 9) (bh-improved . 11)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place like this!”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1397) (bps q 9 19 27 36 43 51 61 70 80 88) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0439) (looseness-sd . 0.040167330008353805) (looseness-variance . 0.0016134144) (looses q 0.1336 -0.0016 0.0854 0.0526 0.037 0.034 0.031 -0.0061 0.0112 0.0623 0.3049)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1608) (bps q 7 14 20 28 35 43 52 61 68 76) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0457) (looseness-sd . 0.04541207328453525) (looseness-variance . 0.0020622564) (looses q -0.0047 0.1547 0.0854 0.0526 0.037 0.034 0.031 -0.0061 0.0112 0.0623 0.3049)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1608) (bps q 7 14 20 28 35 43 52 61 68 76) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0457) (looseness-sd . 0.04541207328453525) (looseness-variance . 0.0020622564) (looses q -0.0047 0.1547 0.0854 0.0526 0.037 0.034 0.031 -0.0061 0.0112 0.0623 0.3049)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1608) (bps q 10 19 27 36 43 51 61 70 80 88) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0457) (looseness-sd . 0.04541207328453525) (looseness-variance . 0.0020622564) (looses q -0.0047 0.1547 0.0854 0.0526 0.037 0.034 0.031 -0.0061 0.0112 0.0623 0.3049)) (fh-improved . 81) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry:") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1401) (bps q 8 16 25 33 40) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0677) (looseness-sd . 0.04471326425122638) (looseness-variance . 0.0019992759999999995) (looses q 0.1445 0.0677 0.0612 0.0044 0.0607 0.2102)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1401) (bps q 8 16 22 30 37) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0677) (looseness-sd . 0.050812770048482885) (looseness-variance . 0.0025819375999999996) (looses q 0.1445 0.0261 0.1027 0.0044 0.0607 0.2102)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1401) (bps q 8 15 22 30 37) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0677) (looseness-sd . 0.04471326425122638) (looseness-variance . 0.0019992759999999995) (looses q 0.1445 0.0677 0.0612 0.0044 0.0607 0.2102)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1401) (bps q 8 17 25 33 40) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0677) (looseness-sd . 0.050812770048482885) (looseness-variance . 0.0025819375999999996) (looses q 0.1445 0.0261 0.1027 0.0044 0.0607 0.2102)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1179) (bps q 8 14 22 30 39 48 55 62 70 77 82 92) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0616) (looseness-sd . 0.03883240699896587) (looseness-variance . 0.0015079558333333332) (looses q 0.072 0.0957 0.1027 0.0127 0.0346 0.079 0.1006 0.1258 0.0097 0.0596 0.0395 0.0079 0.0248)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1251) (bps q 8 14 21 29 36 45 51 58 65 72 77 85) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0632) (looseness-sd . 0.03878903320814044) (looseness-variance . 0.0015045890972222222) (looses q 0.072 0.0957 0.0007 0.0912 0.0762 0.079 0.1006 0.1258 0.0097 0.0596 0.0395 0.0079 0.0248)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1251) (bps q 8 14 21 29 36 45 51 58 65 72 77 85) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0632) (looseness-sd . 0.03878903320814044) (looseness-variance . 0.0015045890972222222) (looses q 0.072 0.0957 0.0007 0.0912 0.0762 0.079 0.1006 0.1258 0.0097 0.0596 0.0395 0.0079 0.0248)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1251) (bps q 8 14 23 31 39 48 55 62 70 77 82 92) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0632) (looseness-sd . 0.03878903320814044) (looseness-variance . 0.0015045890972222222) (looses q 0.072 0.0957 0.0007 0.0912 0.0762 0.079 0.1006 0.1258 0.0097 0.0596 0.0395 0.0079 0.0248)) (fh-improved . 40) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses warranted to last five years.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 32) (looseness-spread . 0.2085) (bps q 9 17 25 33 40 50 54 60 66 73 82 88 94 101 110 118 126 134 145 153 161 173 180 189 196 206 213 221 229 237 244) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0734) (looseness-sd . 0.050679510233863) (looseness-variance . 0.002568412757544225) (looses q 0.1921 0.2024 0.1129 0.0996 0.1642 0.0615 0.076 0.0791 0.0148 0.1229 0.0927 0.0429 0.0809 0.0041 0.0863 0.0913 0.0652 0.0541 -0.0061 0.0781 0.0384 0.0076 0.0497 0.1158 0.0242 0.0486 0.0997 0.025 0.0775 0.0718 0.0034 0.5901)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 33) (looseness-spread . 0.4062) (bps q 9 18 23 30 38 43 48 52 59 66 72 77 83 90 98 104 111 117 126 131 139 146 152 160 167 172 179 186 191 194 198 205) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0961) (looseness-sd . 0.07946451030766817) (looseness-variance . 0.0063146083984375) (looses q 0.0394 0.0045 0.1003 0.1228 -0.0068 0.221 0.1079 0.1693 0.0809 0.118 0.0727 0.1301 0.0301 0.1116 0.085 0.1576 0.0652 0.0541 -0.0061 0.0781 0.0384 0.0999 0.1132 0.0812 0.1221 0.2078 0.0038 0.1308 -0.0052 0.3994 0.1162 0.0309 0.8641)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 56) (line-count . 33) (looseness-spread . 0.2039) (bps q 8 16 21 28 34 41 45 51 57 64 71 76 82 89 97 104 111 117 125 130 136 144 149 155 163 170 176 183 189 193 197 203) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.1026) (looseness-sd . 0.05147578769431314) (looseness-variance . 0.0026497567187499997) (looses q 0.1921 0.2024 0.1129 0.0996 0.0646 0.1791 0.076 0.0791 0.0148 0.1229 0.0927 0.0429 0.0809 0.0041 0.0863 0.0913 0.0652 0.0541 0.208 0.0708 0.1415 0.1352 0.1343 0.1868 0.133 0.0746 0.0715 0.0535 0.0743 0.1342 0.1373 0.0684 0.6551)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 32) (looseness-spread . 0.2278) (bps q 10 21 28 36 46 52 57 61 68 75 83 89 95 102 111 118 126 134 145 153 161 173 180 189 196 206 213 221 229 237 244) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0741) (looseness-sd . 0.053629856602929495) (looseness-variance . 0.0028761615192507803) (looses q 0.0394 0.0045 0.1003 0.1228 -0.0068 0.221 0.1079 0.1693 0.0809 0.118 0.0727 0.1301 0.0301 0.1116 0.085 0.1576 0.0652 0.0541 -0.0061 0.0781 0.0384 0.0076 0.0497 0.1158 0.0242 0.0486 0.0997 0.025 0.0775 0.0718 0.0034 0.5901)) (fh-improved . 580) (bu-improved . 59) (bh-improved . 32)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1381) (bps q 8 16 25 35 44 52 60 69 77 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0421) (looseness-sd . 0.04138152848796187) (looseness-variance . 0.0017124309000000001) (looses q 0.0904 0.0316 0.1303 0.0554 0.0284 0.0051 0.0584 -0.0078 0.0357 -0.0066 0.4687)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1505) (bps q 7 13 20 27 34 39 45 53 60 68) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0627) (looseness-sd . 0.04915864623847976) (looseness-variance . 0.0024165725) (looses q 0.0144 0.0378 0.0258 0.0541 0.1427 0.1154 0.0584 -0.0078 0.1364 0.0493 0.3302)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1283) (bps q 7 13 20 27 34 39 45 52 60 68) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0627) (looseness-sd . 0.037242079694882774) (looseness-variance . 0.0013869725) (looses q 0.0144 0.0378 0.0258 0.0541 0.1427 0.1154 0.0584 0.0572 0.0714 0.0493 0.3302)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1505) (bps q 9 17 27 38 45 52 60 69 77 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.047) (looseness-sd . 0.04649510619409315) (looseness-variance . 0.0021617948999999997) (looses q 0.0144 0.0378 0.0258 0.0541 0.1427 0.1154 0.0584 -0.0078 0.0357 -0.0066 0.4687)) (fh-improved . 114) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 8)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1206) (bps q 10 19 27 33 41 49 57 65) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.038351751915655694) (looseness-variance . 0.0014708568750000002) (looses q -0.0033 0.0039 0.0379 0.0913 0.0632 0.0353 0.0554 0.1173 0.3842)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.2126) (bps q 7 15 20 27 33 38 44 50) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0628) (looseness-sd . 0.07317567795210372) (looseness-variance . 0.00535467984375) (looses q -0.0033 0.0039 0.0379 0.0263 0.2093 0.162 0.0346 0.032 0.3206)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1653) (bps q 7 15 20 26 33 38 44 50) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0628) (looseness-sd . 0.05862746663254349) (looseness-variance . 0.0034371798437500003) (looses q -0.0033 0.0039 0.0379 0.0913 0.1443 0.162 0.0346 0.032 0.3206)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1315) (bps q 10 19 27 34 41 49 58 66) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0374) (looseness-sd . 0.03791117702934057) (looseness-variance . 0.0014372573437500002) (looses q -0.0033 0.0039 0.0379 0.0263 0.1282 0.0353 0.0223 0.0483 0.4683)) (fh-improved . 70) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy entered.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 2) (line-count . 2) (looseness-spread . 0.0) (bps q 8) (piece-count . 15) (avg-piece-length . 22.001033333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0605) (looseness-sd . 0.0) (looseness-variance . 0.0) (looses q 0.0605 0.0158)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 2) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.3064) (bps q 5 11) (piece-count . 12) (avg-piece-length . 27.50129166666667) (avg-looseness . 0.1597) (looseness-sd . 0.1532) (looseness-variance . 0.02347024) (looses q 0.3129 0.0065 0.8032)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 2) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.3064) (bps q 5 11) (piece-count . 12) (avg-piece-length . 27.50129166666667) (avg-looseness . 0.1597) (looseness-sd . 0.1532) (looseness-variance . 0.02347024) (looses q 0.3129 0.0065 0.8032)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 2) (line-count . 2) (looseness-spread . 0.0) (bps q 8) (piece-count . 15) (avg-piece-length . 22.001033333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0605) (looseness-sd . 0.0) (looseness-variance . 0.0) (looses q 0.0605 0.0158)) (fh-improved . 3) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 59) (line-count . 26) (looseness-spread . 0.1502) (bps q 7 13 21 29 37 46 57 64 72 79 87 96 104 113 122 129 136 145 155 164 173 180 189 197 205) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0638) (looseness-sd . 0.03811492432105828) (looseness-variance . 0.001452747456) (looses q 0.1316 0.0725 0.0492 0.0848 0.0909 0.0348 0.0528 0.0102 0.0726 0.0824 0.0419 0.0435 0.1164 0.0692 0.0484 0.1531 0.0723 0.0531 0.0209 0.0029 0.0455 0.0131 0.0955 0.1155 0.0216 0.069)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.2068) (bps q 7 13 20 26 32 39 45 51 56 64 70 78 86 92 100 107 114 122 132 140 148 156 163 170 176 183) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0878) (looseness-sd . 0.059343497622394756) (looseness-variance . 0.003521650710059172) (looses q 0.1316 0.0725 0.2083 0.1133 0.0314 0.1221 0.1296 0.1904 0.134 0.0919 0.0166 0.0531 0.0176 0.0352 0.1783 0.0015 0.084 0.0686 0.0371 0.0605 0.1091 0.0302 0.0154 0.1544 0.1633 0.033 0.4579)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 55) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.2068) (bps q 7 13 20 26 31 38 45 51 56 64 70 78 86 92 100 107 114 122 131 139 147 155 162 169 176 183) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.089) (looseness-sd . 0.05485087313820691) (looseness-variance . 0.0030086182840236685) (looses q 0.1316 0.0725 0.2083 0.1133 0.1102 0.0849 0.088 0.1904 0.134 0.0919 0.0166 0.0531 0.0176 0.0352 0.1783 0.0015 0.084 0.0686 0.1105 0.0522 0.1714 0.1186 0.0285 0.058 0.0626 0.033 0.4579)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 26) (looseness-spread . 0.1507) (bps q 7 13 22 29 37 46 57 64 72 80 88 96 104 113 122 129 136 145 155 164 173 180 189 197 205) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.065) (looseness-sd . 0.04394803221988443) (looseness-variance . 0.001931429536) (looses q 0.1316 0.0725 0.0329 0.1011 0.0909 0.0348 0.0528 0.0102 0.0726 0.0174 0.0273 0.1536 0.1164 0.0692 0.0484 0.1531 0.0723 0.0531 0.0209 0.0029 0.0455 0.0131 0.0955 0.1155 0.0216 0.069)) (fh-improved . 416) (bu-improved . 8) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0738) (bps q 8 17 25 33 43 51) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0484) (looseness-sd . 0.025368314663944253) (looseness-variance . 0.0006435513888888891) (looses q 0.018 0.0517 0.0918 0.0646 0.0435 0.0209 0.0844)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0738) (bps q 6 14 21 27 34 41) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0484) (looseness-sd . 0.025368314663944253) (looseness-variance . 0.0006435513888888891) (looses q 0.018 0.0517 0.0918 0.0646 0.0435 0.0209 0.0844)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0738) (bps q 6 14 21 27 34 41) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0484) (looseness-sd . 0.025368314663944253) (looseness-variance . 0.0006435513888888891) (looses q 0.018 0.0517 0.0918 0.0646 0.0435 0.0209 0.0844)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0738) (bps q 8 17 25 33 43 51) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0484) (looseness-sd . 0.025368314663944253) (looseness-variance . 0.0006435513888888891) (looses q 0.018 0.0517 0.0918 0.0646 0.0435 0.0209 0.0844)) (fh-improved . 34) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little maid should know such changes!”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1767) (bps q 6 15 24 33 40 49 59 68 76 83 91 99 107 116 124 133 140 148 156 165 174) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0546) (looseness-sd . 0.05023331866256574) (looseness-variance . 0.002523386303854875) (looses q 0.166 0.0465 0.0494 0.1128 0.1339 0.0048 0.0336 -0.0013 0.0907 0.1016 0.0064 0.0859 0.0474 0.0217 0.0203 0.0163 0.0634 0.1333 0.0043 0.0213 -0.0107 0.4841)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1767) (bps q 5 12 19 26 31 39 49 57 66 74 81 89 94 103 111 119 126 133 141 150 158) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0562) (looseness-sd . 0.05878281521907031) (looseness-variance . 0.0034554193650793647) (looses q 0.166 0.0465 0.0494 0.1128 0.1339 0.0048 0.0336 -0.0013 -0.0085 -0.0101 0.0969 -0.0006 0.154 0.0046 0.0622 0.1237 0.0634 0.1333 0.0043 0.0213 -0.0107 0.4841)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1794) (bps q 5 12 19 26 31 39 49 57 65 73 81 88 94 103 111 119 126 133 141 150 158) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0562) (looseness-sd . 0.05363047793247144) (looseness-variance . 0.0028762281632653064) (looses q 0.166 0.0465 0.0494 0.1128 0.1339 0.0048 0.0336 -0.0013 0.0907 0.0009 -0.0134 0.0983 0.055 0.0046 0.0622 0.1237 0.0634 0.1333 0.0043 0.0213 -0.0107 0.4841)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1767) (bps q 6 15 24 33 40 49 59 68 77 85 92 101 108 117 125 133 140 148 156 165 174) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0562) (looseness-sd . 0.05878281521907031) (looseness-variance . 0.0034554193650793647) (looses q 0.166 0.0465 0.0494 0.1128 0.1339 0.0048 0.0336 -0.0013 -0.0085 -0.0101 0.0969 -0.0006 0.154 0.0046 0.0622 0.1237 0.0634 0.1333 0.0043 0.0213 -0.0107 0.4841)) (fh-improved . 232) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 9)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, and he descended into the midst of it.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1361) (bps q 8 18 26 35 42 51 61 70 78 86 95 102 109) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.036888931326861045) (looseness-variance . 0.00136079325443787) (looses q 0.1325 0.0116 0.0604 0.0399 0.0955 0.0727 -0.0036 0.0359 0.0868 0.0195 0.0169 0.0436 0.039 0.736)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1361) (bps q 5 12 19 26 33 39 48 56 62 70 78 85 92) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.036888931326861045) (looseness-variance . 0.00136079325443787) (looses q 0.1325 0.0116 0.0604 0.0399 0.0955 0.0727 -0.0036 0.0359 0.0868 0.0195 0.0169 0.0436 0.039 0.736)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1361) (bps q 5 12 19 26 33 39 48 56 62 70 78 85 92) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.036888931326861045) (looseness-variance . 0.00136079325443787) (looses q 0.1325 0.0116 0.0604 0.0399 0.0955 0.0727 -0.0036 0.0359 0.0868 0.0195 0.0169 0.0436 0.039 0.736)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1361) (bps q 8 18 26 35 42 51 61 70 78 86 95 102 109) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.036888931326861045) (looseness-variance . 0.00136079325443787) (looses q 0.1325 0.0116 0.0604 0.0399 0.0955 0.0727 -0.0036 0.0359 0.0868 0.0195 0.0169 0.0436 0.039 0.736)) (fh-improved . 156) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1595) (bps q 8 15 23 30 39 48 56 65 73 81 89 96) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0814) (looseness-sd . 0.051669996532481666) (looseness-variance . 0.002669788541666667) (looses q 0.0938 0.1418 0.1316 0.1326 0.0092 0.064 0.163 0.0208 0.0035 0.0937 0.0725 0.0506 0.4958)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1595) (bps q 7 14 23 30 35 42 49 57 65 72 79 86) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0814) (looseness-sd . 0.05282458129402342) (looseness-variance . 0.002790436388888889) (looses q 0.0938 0.1418 0.0056 0.1505 0.1172 0.064 0.163 0.0208 0.0035 0.0937 0.0725 0.0506 0.4958)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1595) (bps q 7 14 22 29 35 42 49 57 65 72 79 86) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0814) (looseness-sd . 0.051669996532481666) (looseness-variance . 0.002669788541666667) (looses q 0.0938 0.1418 0.1316 0.1326 0.0092 0.064 0.163 0.0208 0.0035 0.0937 0.0725 0.0506 0.4958)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1595) (bps q 8 15 24 31 39 48 56 65 73 81 89 96) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0814) (looseness-sd . 0.05282458129402342) (looseness-variance . 0.002790436388888889) (looses q 0.0938 0.1418 0.0056 0.1505 0.1172 0.064 0.163 0.0208 0.0035 0.0937 0.0725 0.0506 0.4958)) (fh-improved . 66) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and in the other that of a granary good to feed in.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 66) (line-count . 33) (looseness-spread . 0.1677) (bps q 7 15 24 34 44 52 58 66 73 81 88 96 104 112 121 129 137 145 152 162 169 178 186 194 201 209 218 226 234 243 253 262) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0557) (looseness-sd . 0.04352822708007271) (looseness-variance . 0.001894706552734375) (looses q 0.1438 0.0339 0.0217 0.0468 0.0868 0.0651 0.1444 0.0093 0.0245 0.0635 0.0102 0.1083 0.0334 0.0515 -0.0059 0.006 0.0814 0.0973 -0.0096 0.0158 0.038 0.0241 0.0831 0.067 0.076 0.1581 0.0251 0.102 0.0397 0.0438 0.0842 0.0132 0.4112)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 33) (looseness-spread . 0.2314) (bps q 6 13 19 25 32 40 47 51 58 64 71 79 85 89 96 102 108 114 120 126 132 139 148 155 163 170 177 183 189 196 203 212) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0689) (looseness-sd . 0.0664077449096442) (looseness-variance . 0.004409988583984375) (looses q 0.1438 0.0339 0.1259 0.101 0.0206 -0.0091 -0.0073 0.1609 0.0245 0.0635 0.0102 0.1083 0.1689 0.1733 0.1049 0.0466 -0.0071 0.0665 0.0513 0.2179 -0.0045 0.0332 -0.0073 0.0711 0.0144 0.0915 0.0536 0.0466 0.2223 0.0799 0.0111 -0.0063 0.0386)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 44) (line-count . 33) (looseness-spread . 0.1905) (bps q 6 13 19 25 32 40 46 51 58 64 70 77 84 89 96 102 107 113 119 126 132 139 147 153 161 168 175 182 189 196 203 212) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0694) (looseness-sd . 0.05495541801087496) (looseness-variance . 0.00302009796875) (looses q 0.1438 0.0339 0.1259 0.101 0.0206 -0.0091 0.1444 0.0093 0.0245 0.0635 0.1353 0.1814 0.1054 0.0406 0.1049 0.0466 0.1003 0.1631 0.0164 0.0488 -0.0045 0.0332 0.1164 0.13 0.1088 0.0005 0.0939 0.0337 0.0247 0.0799 0.0111 -0.0063 0.0386)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 38) (line-count . 33) (looseness-spread . 0.1682) (bps q 7 15 24 34 44 52 59 66 73 81 88 96 104 112 121 129 138 146 152 162 169 178 186 194 202 210 218 227 234 243 253 262) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0566) (looseness-sd . 0.04858570230788066) (looseness-variance . 0.00236057046875) (looses q 0.1438 0.0339 0.0217 0.0468 0.0868 0.0651 -0.0073 0.1609 0.0245 0.0635 0.0102 0.1083 0.0334 0.0515 -0.0059 0.006 0.001 0.0982 0.0996 0.0158 0.038 0.0241 0.0831 0.067 0.0 0.1022 0.1549 0.0056 0.1361 0.0438 0.0842 0.0132 0.4112)) (fh-improved . 867) (bu-improved . 18) (bh-improved . 6)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1194) (bps q 7 15 23 31 38 46 54 64) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0542) (looseness-sd . 0.04591584693763146) (looseness-variance . 0.0021082650000000002) (looses q 0.0852 -0.011 0.1084 0.1011 0.0616 0.0835 -0.0092 0.0144 0.3685)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1194) (bps q 7 13 20 27 34 40 45 53) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0542) (looseness-sd . 0.04591584693763146) (looseness-variance . 0.0021082650000000002) (looses q 0.0852 -0.011 0.1084 0.1011 0.0616 0.0835 -0.0092 0.0144 0.3685)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1194) (bps q 7 13 20 27 34 40 45 53) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0542) (looseness-sd . 0.04591584693763146) (looseness-variance . 0.0021082650000000002) (looses q 0.0852 -0.011 0.1084 0.1011 0.0616 0.0835 -0.0092 0.0144 0.3685)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1194) (bps q 7 15 23 31 38 46 54 64) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0542) (looseness-sd . 0.04591584693763146) (looseness-variance . 0.0021082650000000002) (looses q 0.0852 -0.011 0.1084 0.1011 0.0616 0.0835 -0.0092 0.0144 0.3685)) (fh-improved . 39) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1203) (bps q 7 14 21 27 37 43 50 58 66 74 83 92) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0608) (looseness-sd . 0.04247564252996455) (looseness-variance . 0.0018041802083333333) (looses q 0.1126 0.1146 0.0557 0.1204 0.0882 0.0965 0.0241 0.0583 0.0262 0.028 0.0001 0.0046 0.27)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.2101) (bps q 7 14 19 25 34 40 47 53 59 66 74 82) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0759) (looseness-sd . 0.06122831362114172) (looseness-variance . 0.003748906388888889) (looses q 0.1126 0.1146 0.0557 0.0417 0.0146 0.0884 0.024 0.2053 0.0262 0.1661 -0.0048 0.0662 0.1119)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1369) (bps q 7 14 19 24 33 39 45 52 58 66 74 82) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.077) (looseness-sd . 0.041068772774727785) (looseness-variance . 0.001686644097222222) (looses q 0.1126 0.1146 0.0557 0.1204 0.0882 0.0965 0.1321 0.0583 0.0745 0.0098 -0.0048 0.0662 0.1119)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1212) (bps q 7 14 21 28 38 44 51 59 66 74 83 92) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0582) (looseness-sd . 0.04349295920031195) (looseness-variance . 0.0018916375000000002) (looses q 0.1126 0.1146 0.0557 0.0417 0.0146 0.0884 0.024 0.0922 0.1213 0.028 0.0001 0.0046 0.27)) (fh-improved . 57) (bu-improved . 7) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a good meal!”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1261) (bps q 7 13 21 28 36) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0947) (looseness-sd . 0.04271470941022542) (looseness-variance . 0.0018245464) (looses q 0.1079 0.1421 0.0908 0.016 0.1169 0.2101)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1822) (bps q 6 12 19 26 33) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0947) (looseness-sd . 0.06509228525716391) (looseness-variance . 0.0042370056) (looses q 0.1079 0.0346 0.1982 0.016 0.1169 0.2101)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1261) (bps q 6 11 19 26 33) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0947) (looseness-sd . 0.04271470941022542) (looseness-variance . 0.0018245464) (looses q 0.1079 0.1421 0.0908 0.016 0.1169 0.2101)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1822) (bps q 7 14 21 28 36) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0947) (looseness-sd . 0.06509228525716391) (looseness-variance . 0.0042370056) (looses q 0.1079 0.0346 0.1982 0.016 0.1169 0.2101)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much resembled his own.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1429) (bps q 8 15 23 31 38) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.039) (looseness-sd . 0.048206597058908854) (looseness-variance . 0.002323876) (looses q 0.0263 0.0248 0.0248 -0.0119 0.131 0.3643)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1124) (bps q 8 15 21 28 35) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0734) (looseness-sd . 0.04824324201377846) (looseness-variance . 0.0023274103999999995) (looses q 0.0263 0.0248 0.1372 0.0543 0.1246 0.2388)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1124) (bps q 8 15 21 28 35) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0734) (looseness-sd . 0.04824324201377846) (looseness-variance . 0.0023274103999999995) (looses q 0.0263 0.0248 0.1372 0.0543 0.1246 0.2388)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1429) (bps q 8 15 23 31 38) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.039) (looseness-sd . 0.048206597058908854) (looseness-variance . 0.002323876) (looses q 0.0263 0.0248 0.0248 -0.0119 0.131 0.3643)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the clacker swinging in his hand.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1099) (bps q 8 16 24 33 42 50 58 65 72 79 88 97 104 112) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.058) (looseness-sd . 0.0341542599010395) (looseness-variance . 0.0011665134693877549) (looses q 0.0209 0.0827 0.0865 0.0271 0.0696 0.003 -0.0086 0.0686 0.0825 0.0822 0.088 0.0333 0.0753 0.1013 0.0071)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.2492) (bps q 8 16 21 29 37 43 51 57 63 69 75 82 88 93 99) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0723) (looseness-sd . 0.07227808765840141) (looseness-variance . 0.005224121955555557) (looses q 0.0209 0.0827 0.0865 0.0271 0.0696 0.003 -0.0086 0.0686 0.0825 0.2406 0.0442 0.0469 0.0954 0.2315 -0.0068 0.7811)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1805) (bps q 8 16 21 29 37 43 50 56 62 69 74 81 86 93 99) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0714) (looseness-sd . 0.04543956376942406) (looseness-variance . 0.0020647539555555556) (looses q 0.0209 0.0827 0.0865 0.0271 0.0696 0.003 0.0797 0.0877 0.1121 0.0907 0.1091 0.1737 0.0902 0.0449 -0.0068 0.7811)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1099) (bps q 8 16 24 33 42 50 58 65 72 80 89 97 104 112) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0567) (looseness-sd . 0.034123655688554536) (looseness-variance . 0.0011644238775510205) (looses q 0.0209 0.0827 0.0865 0.0271 0.0696 0.003 -0.0086 0.0686 0.0825 0.0343 0.0543 0.0969 0.0753 0.1013 0.0071)) (fh-improved . 118) (bu-improved . 7) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1589) (bps q 8 14 21 29 36 44 51 60) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0726) (looseness-sd . 0.04684499539705389) (looseness-variance . 0.00219445359375) (looses q 0.1535 -0.0054 0.129 0.0555 0.071 0.0354 0.0654 0.0765 0.4325)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1684) (bps q 8 14 22 29 36 41 48 55) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0726) (looseness-sd . 0.05575126540043732) (looseness-variance . 0.00310820359375) (looses q 0.1535 -0.0054 0.0215 0.163 0.071 0.0354 0.0654 0.0765 0.4325)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1589) (bps q 8 14 21 29 36 41 48 55) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0726) (looseness-sd . 0.04684499539705389) (looseness-variance . 0.00219445359375) (looses q 0.1535 -0.0054 0.129 0.0555 0.071 0.0354 0.0654 0.0765 0.4325)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1684) (bps q 8 14 22 29 36 44 51 60) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0726) (looseness-sd . 0.05575126540043732) (looseness-variance . 0.00310820359375) (looses q 0.1535 -0.0054 0.0215 0.163 0.071 0.0354 0.0654 0.0765 0.4325)) (fh-improved . 11) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.131) (bps q 7 12 20 28 35 43 51 58) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0672) (looseness-sd . 0.03458073659929759) (looseness-variance . 0.0011958273437499998) (looses q 0.0816 0.064 0.0715 0.0112 0.0645 0.1422 0.0463 0.056 0.1862)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.131) (bps q 6 10 18 25 32 40 47 53) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0672) (looseness-sd . 0.03458073659929759) (looseness-variance . 0.0011958273437499998) (looses q 0.0816 0.064 0.0715 0.0112 0.0645 0.1422 0.0463 0.056 0.1862)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.131) (bps q 6 10 18 25 32 40 47 53) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0672) (looseness-sd . 0.03458073659929759) (looseness-variance . 0.0011958273437499998) (looses q 0.0816 0.064 0.0715 0.0112 0.0645 0.1422 0.0463 0.056 0.1862)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.131) (bps q 7 12 20 28 35 43 51 58) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0672) (looseness-sd . 0.03458073659929759) (looseness-variance . 0.0011958273437499998) (looses q 0.0816 0.064 0.0715 0.0112 0.0645 0.1422 0.0463 0.056 0.1862)) (fh-improved . 23) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1671) (bps q 6 13 22 31 39 48 55 65 73 81 91 98 108) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0731) (looseness-sd . 0.04792554259615737) (looseness-variance . 0.0022968576331360946) (looses q 0.156 0.1047 0.0622 0.1054 0.0772 0.0289 0.1645 0.0294 0.0423 0.0863 0.0325 0.0636 -0.0026 0.4864)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.2399) (bps q 6 12 18 25 32 39 46 53 61 70 77 83 92) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0864) (looseness-sd . 0.0688923446249944) (looseness-variance . 0.004746155147928994) (looses q 0.156 0.1047 0.0622 0.1054 0.0772 0.0289 0.1645 0.0294 0.0423 -0.0101 0.2298 0.1378 -0.0051 0.3597)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1696) (bps q 6 12 18 25 32 39 46 53 60 68 76 83 92) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0853) (looseness-sd . 0.048433380097741556) (looseness-variance . 0.002345792307692308) (looses q 0.156 0.1047 0.0622 0.1054 0.0772 0.0289 0.1645 0.0294 0.1059 0.1167 0.1126 0.0505 -0.0051 0.3597)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1726) (bps q 6 13 22 31 39 48 56 65 73 82 91 98 108) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0717) (looseness-sd . 0.05502705843276846) (looseness-variance . 0.003027977159763314) (looses q 0.156 0.1047 0.0622 0.1054 0.0772 0.0289 0.0133 0.1625 0.0423 -0.0101 0.129 0.0636 -0.0026 0.4864)) (fh-improved . 118) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1742) (bps q 8 16 24 32 38 47 57 65 74 81 88 94 102 109) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0752) (looseness-sd . 0.05056510250990039) (looseness-variance . 0.002556829591836735) (looses q 0.0842 0.041 0.0695 0.0915 0.1651 0.069 0.0166 0.0472 0.0609 0.0286 0.1708 0.14 -0.0034 0.0712 0.1831)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.2255) (bps q 5 11 17 25 31 36 46 50 56 61 66 72 79 84 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.1017) (looseness-sd . 0.0751254015334065) (looseness-variance . 0.005643825955555556) (looses q 0.0842 0.041 0.1762 0.0016 0.1651 0.069 0.0166 0.1986 0.0505 0.2271 0.168 0.0793 0.0054 0.1924 0.0504 0.7775)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1984) (bps q 5 11 17 24 30 35 43 49 54 60 66 72 78 84 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.1017) (looseness-sd . 0.06306018782789097) (looseness-variance . 0.003976587288888889) (looses q 0.0842 0.041 0.1762 0.098 0.1651 0.0468 0.2217 0.1562 0.1422 0.0403 0.0262 0.0793 0.1745 0.0233 0.0504 0.7775)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1742) (bps q 8 16 24 32 38 47 57 65 74 81 88 94 102 109) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0752) (looseness-sd . 0.05056510250990039) (looseness-variance . 0.002556829591836735) (looses q 0.0842 0.041 0.0695 0.0915 0.1651 0.069 0.0166 0.0472 0.0609 0.0286 0.1708 0.14 -0.0034 0.0712 0.1831)) (fh-improved . 196) (bu-improved . 11) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and never let him see him in one of those fields again.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0319) (bps q 6 14 24 33 41 50) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0462) (looseness-sd . 0.012279081127402544) (looseness-variance . 0.00015077583333333332) (looses q 0.0601 0.0418 0.0624 0.0331 0.0305 0.0496 0.387)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1281) (bps q 6 11 18 25 32 40 48) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.1234) (looseness-sd . 0.045579394735886916) (looseness-variance . 0.002077481224489796) (looses q 0.0601 0.1701 0.1882 0.0803 0.1301 0.0845 0.1506 0.8627)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1079) (bps q 5 11 18 25 32 40 48) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.1234) (looseness-sd . 0.03912462557687437) (looseness-variance . 0.0015307363265306124) (looses q 0.1485 0.0818 0.1882 0.0803 0.1301 0.0845 0.1506 0.8627)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0319) (bps q 6 14 24 33 41 50) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0462) (looseness-sd . 0.012279081127402544) (looseness-variance . 0.00015077583333333332) (looses q 0.0601 0.0418 0.0624 0.0331 0.0305 0.0496 0.387)) (fh-improved . 36) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.128) (bps q 7 14 21 29 39 46 54 62 70 79) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0536) (looseness-sd . 0.03846323049355059) (looseness-variance . 0.0014794201) (looses q 0.1013 0.0398 0.1187 0.0348 0.0107 0.0566 0.0544 0.0352 0.0935 -0.0093 0.2064)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1367) (bps q 7 12 19 25 33 40 47 54 61 70) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0554) (looseness-sd . 0.04410809562880719) (looseness-variance . 0.0019455240999999997) (looses q 0.1013 0.0398 0.1187 0.0348 0.0107 0.0566 0.0544 0.1274 0.0193 -0.0093 0.2064)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1367) (bps q 7 12 19 25 33 40 47 54 61 70) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0554) (looseness-sd . 0.04410809562880719) (looseness-variance . 0.0019455240999999997) (looses q 0.1013 0.0398 0.1187 0.0348 0.0107 0.0566 0.0544 0.1274 0.0193 -0.0093 0.2064)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.128) (bps q 7 14 21 29 39 46 54 62 70 79) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0536) (looseness-sd . 0.03846323049355059) (looseness-variance . 0.0014794201) (looses q 0.1013 0.0398 0.1187 0.0348 0.0107 0.0566 0.0544 0.0352 0.0935 -0.0093 0.2064)) (fh-improved . 53) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them at each tread.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0621) (bps q 8 18 26 34 42 49 58 66 76 85) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.020433257204860902) (looseness-variance . 0.00041751799999999997) (looses q 0.0674 0.0365 0.0567 0.0264 0.0393 0.0094 0.0414 0.019 0.0715 0.0154 0.2187)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1382) (bps q 8 16 22 30 36 41 48 55 64 70 77) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0715) (looseness-sd . 0.04868428565175305) (looseness-variance . 0.0023701596694214876) (looses q 0.0674 0.0365 0.0567 0.0264 0.1502 0.0919 0.1463 0.1333 0.0281 0.0379 0.012 0.8653)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1343) (bps q 8 16 22 29 36 41 48 55 64 70 77) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0715) (looseness-sd . 0.041814217203369704) (looseness-variance . 0.0017484287603305789) (looses q 0.0674 0.0365 0.0567 0.068 0.1086 0.0919 0.1463 0.1333 0.0281 0.0379 0.012 0.8653)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0621) (bps q 8 18 26 34 42 49 58 66 76 85) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.020433257204860902) (looseness-variance . 0.00041751799999999997) (looses q 0.0674 0.0365 0.0567 0.0264 0.0393 0.0094 0.0414 0.019 0.0715 0.0154 0.2187)) (fh-improved . 72) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.132) (bps q 5 14 23 30 39 47 57 64 72 81 90 99 107 117 125 134 143 152 160 168 176) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0607) (looseness-sd . 0.03640453797931692) (looseness-variance . 0.0013252903854875282) (looses q 0.1006 0.0477 0.0454 0.0877 -0.0102 0.0857 -0.0125 0.0775 0.0772 0.0144 0.0377 0.1036 0.0966 0.1195 0.0557 0.0808 0.0276 0.017 0.0872 0.0727 0.0623 0.815)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.2636) (bps q 5 14 21 28 35 41 49 55 63 72 80 87 94 101 109 118 126 132 139 146 150) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0668) (looseness-sd . 0.06478899433428545) (looseness-variance . 0.004197613786848072) (looses q 0.1006 0.0477 0.0454 0.0877 -0.0102 0.0857 -0.0125 0.0775 0.0772 0.0144 0.0377 0.0127 0.2055 0.1195 -0.0093 0.0261 0.0589 0.0312 0.0512 0.1046 0.2511 0.7407)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1652) (bps q 5 14 21 28 35 41 49 55 63 71 78 85 93 100 107 116 124 130 138 144 149) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0694) (looseness-sd . 0.046314601998469596) (looseness-variance . 0.002145042358276644) (looses q 0.1006 0.0477 0.0454 0.0877 -0.0102 0.0857 -0.0125 0.0775 0.0772 0.1198 0.1368 0.0645 0.0961 0.059 0.0964 0.1064 0.0332 -0.013 0.0969 0.1522 0.0101 0.6991)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 40) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1712) (bps q 5 14 23 30 39 47 57 64 72 81 90 100 108 118 127 135 144 153 161 169 176) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0622) (looseness-sd . 0.04394404037872777) (looseness-variance . 0.0019310786848072564) (looses q 0.1006 0.0477 0.0454 0.0877 -0.0102 0.0857 -0.0125 0.0775 0.0772 0.0144 0.0377 0.0127 0.0596 0.0811 0.0466 0.1514 0.0589 0.0312 0.0512 0.1046 0.1587 0.815)) (fh-improved . 248) (bu-improved . 19) (bh-improved . 10)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0816) (bps q 9 20 28 36 46) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0554) (looseness-sd . 0.026976330365711346) (looseness-variance . 0.0007277224) (looses q 0.0695 0.0452 0.0553 0.0944 0.0128 0.7702)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0816) (bps q 7 16 23 31 39) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0554) (looseness-sd . 0.026976330365711346) (looseness-variance . 0.0007277224) (looses q 0.0695 0.0452 0.0553 0.0944 0.0128 0.7702)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0816) (bps q 7 16 23 31 39) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0554) (looseness-sd . 0.026976330365711346) (looseness-variance . 0.0007277224) (looses q 0.0695 0.0452 0.0553 0.0944 0.0128 0.7702)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0816) (bps q 9 20 28 36 46) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0554) (looseness-sd . 0.026976330365711346) (looseness-variance . 0.0007277224) (looses q 0.0695 0.0452 0.0553 0.0944 0.0128 0.7702)) (fh-improved . 23) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0535) (bps q 6 15 22) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.045) (looseness-sd . 0.02208564138881992) (looseness-variance . 0.0004877755555555555) (looses q 0.0741 0.0206 0.0404 0.3959)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0831) (bps q 6 14 20) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.1284) (looseness-sd . 0.038441672989377326) (looseness-variance . 0.0014777622222222223) (looses q 0.0741 0.1572 0.154 0.1764)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0831) (bps q 6 14 20) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.1284) (looseness-sd . 0.038441672989377326) (looseness-variance . 0.0014777622222222223) (looses q 0.0741 0.1572 0.154 0.1764)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0535) (bps q 6 15 22) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.045) (looseness-sd . 0.02208564138881992) (looseness-variance . 0.0004877755555555555) (looses q 0.0741 0.0206 0.0404 0.3959)) (fh-improved . 3) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of mischty.”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1632) (bps q 8 15 23 31 38 46 53 61 69 78 85 94 101 110 121 129) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0636) (looseness-sd . 0.04393023188463157) (looseness-variance . 0.0019298652734375) (looses q 0.1129 0.0926 0.0954 -0.0123 0.1509 0.0564 0.0527 0.0282 0.108 0.0232 0.0497 0.0609 0.1166 0.0525 0.0019 0.0283 0.7187)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1914) (bps q 6 13 20 28 35 43 49 56 65 72 78 87 93 102 111 119) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0647) (looseness-sd . 0.054899100274389746) (looseness-variance . 0.0030139112109375003) (looses q 0.1129 0.0926 0.0954 -0.0123 -0.0015 0.1248 0.123 0.0282 0.0154 0.1158 0.0497 0.0609 0.0046 0.0176 0.1791 0.0283 0.7187)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1632) (bps q 6 13 20 28 34 42 49 56 64 72 78 87 93 101 111 119) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0655) (looseness-sd . 0.043643373190411165) (looseness-variance . 0.0019047440234375) (looses q 0.1129 0.0926 0.0954 -0.0123 0.1509 0.0564 0.0527 0.0282 0.108 0.0232 0.0497 0.0609 0.0046 0.0827 0.1141 0.0283 0.7187)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1914) (bps q 8 15 23 31 39 47 53 61 70 78 85 94 102 112 121 129) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0647) (looseness-sd . 0.054899100274389746) (looseness-variance . 0.0030139112109375003) (looses q 0.1129 0.0926 0.0954 -0.0123 -0.0015 0.1248 0.123 0.0282 0.0154 0.1158 0.0497 0.0609 0.0046 0.0176 0.1791 0.0283 0.7187)) (fh-improved . 91) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 6)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, and only secondarily from a moral one.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0244) (bps q 7 16 25 33) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0734) (looseness-sd . 0.009758425846416008) (looseness-variance . 9.522687499999999e-05) (looses q 0.0589 0.0833 0.0813 0.0702 0.3377)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.23) (bps q 6 12 18 25) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.1339) (looseness-sd . 0.09213576938409967) (looseness-variance . 0.008488999999999998) (looses q 0.0589 0.2749 0.1569 0.0449 0.132)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.23) (bps q 6 12 18 25) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.1339) (looseness-sd . 0.09213576938409967) (looseness-variance . 0.008488999999999998) (looses q 0.0589 0.2749 0.1569 0.0449 0.132)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0244) (bps q 7 16 25 33) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0734) (looseness-sd . 0.009758425846416008) (looseness-variance . 9.522687499999999e-05) (looses q 0.0589 0.0833 0.0813 0.0702 0.3377)) (fh-improved . 20) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy side of the family, and never will be!”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1238) (bps q 8 14 21 29 37 45 51 60) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0753) (looseness-sd . 0.040977354645584434) (looseness-variance . 0.00167914359375) (looses q 0.0332 0.006 0.109 0.1298 0.1047 0.0384 0.0958 0.0856 0.6519)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1423) (bps q 8 14 21 28 33 39 45 53) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0776) (looseness-sd . 0.050483332645537574) (looseness-variance . 0.002548566875) (looses q 0.0332 0.006 0.109 0.1298 0.0129 0.1483 0.0958 0.0856 0.6519)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1423) (bps q 8 14 21 28 33 39 45 53) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0776) (looseness-sd . 0.050483332645537574) (looseness-variance . 0.002548566875) (looses q 0.0332 0.006 0.109 0.1298 0.0129 0.1483 0.0958 0.0856 0.6519)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1423) (bps q 8 14 21 29 38 45 51 60) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0776) (looseness-sd . 0.050483332645537574) (looseness-variance . 0.002548566875) (looses q 0.0332 0.006 0.109 0.1298 0.0129 0.1483 0.0958 0.0856 0.6519)) (fh-improved . 25) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0729) (bps q 8 16 26) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 18.773111111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0427) (looseness-sd . 0.031197685099307537) (looseness-variance . 0.0009732955555555556) (looses q 0.0858 0.0129 0.0295 0.8208)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0729) (bps q 6 13 20) (piece-count . 21) (avg-piece-length . 24.136857142857142) (avg-looseness . 0.0427) (looseness-sd . 0.031197685099307537) (looseness-variance . 0.0009732955555555556) (looses q 0.0858 0.0129 0.0295 0.8208)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0729) (bps q 6 13 20) (piece-count . 21) (avg-piece-length . 24.136857142857142) (avg-looseness . 0.0427) (looseness-sd . 0.031197685099307537) (looseness-variance . 0.0009732955555555556) (looses q 0.0858 0.0129 0.0295 0.8208)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0729) (bps q 8 16 26) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 18.773111111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0427) (looseness-sd . 0.031197685099307537) (looseness-variance . 0.0009732955555555556) (looses q 0.0858 0.0129 0.0295 0.8208)) (fh-improved . 11) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0935) (bps q 7 17 26 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0442) (looseness-sd . 0.03464383061960672) (looseness-variance . 0.001200195) (looses q 0.0922 -0.0013 0.0284 0.0575 0.217)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0935) (bps q 7 15 24 33) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0442) (looseness-sd . 0.03464383061960672) (looseness-variance . 0.001200195) (looses q 0.0922 -0.0013 0.0284 0.0575 0.217)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0935) (bps q 7 15 24 33) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0442) (looseness-sd . 0.03464383061960672) (looseness-variance . 0.001200195) (looses q 0.0922 -0.0013 0.0284 0.0575 0.217)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0935) (bps q 7 17 26 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0442) (looseness-sd . 0.03464383061960672) (looseness-variance . 0.001200195) (looses q 0.0922 -0.0013 0.0284 0.0575 0.217)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor folk in Christminster with we.”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0728) (bps q 7 14 22 31) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.086) (looseness-sd . 0.03169238867614746) (looseness-variance . 0.0010044074999999999) (looses q 0.1109 0.1235 0.0587 0.0507 0.4107)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.2313) (bps q 6 13 20 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0905) (looseness-sd . 0.089304601645156) (looseness-variance . 0.007975311875) (looses q 0.2419 0.0106 0.0587 0.0507 0.4107)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.2313) (bps q 6 13 20 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0905) (looseness-sd . 0.089304601645156) (looseness-variance . 0.007975311875) (looses q 0.2419 0.0106 0.0587 0.0507 0.4107)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0728) (bps q 7 14 22 31) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.086) (looseness-sd . 0.03169238867614746) (looseness-variance . 0.0010044074999999999) (looses q 0.1109 0.1235 0.0587 0.0507 0.4107)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 59) (line-count . 26) (looseness-spread . 0.1374) (bps q 8 17 26 36 43 52 60 67 76 82 92 99 106 115 123 130 139 149 159 168 177 185 193 202 211) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0454) (looseness-sd . 0.038084543006316876) (looseness-variance . 0.0014504324159999998) (looses q 0.042 -0.0093 0.0882 0.0366 0.0394 0.0244 0.0192 0.0573 0.1146 0.0965 -0.0094 0.0625 0.0175 0.0401 0.0754 -0.0009 0.0423 0.128 0.073 0.0176 0.0985 0.0545 0.0163 0.0164 -0.005 0.1965)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 44) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.2683) (bps q 7 14 23 32 38 45 53 60 67 71 75 80 87 94 102 107 113 122 132 139 146 153 158 164 171 179) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0781) (looseness-sd . 0.07845667141767378) (looseness-variance . 0.006155449289940829) (looses q 0.042 -0.0093 0.0882 0.0366 0.2352 0.003 0.0147 0.1229 -0.0064 0.259 0.2101 0.0584 0.1253 0.0563 0.0042 0.1797 0.0179 0.0038 0.0287 0.0475 0.1247 0.0977 0.1942 0.0075 0.0648 0.0229 0.4156)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.1819) (bps q 7 14 22 31 38 44 51 58 64 70 75 80 87 94 101 107 113 120 129 137 145 152 158 164 171 179) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0796) (looseness-sd . 0.049971978094473665) (looseness-variance . 0.002497198594674556) (looses q 0.042 -0.0093 0.1298 0.0888 0.1415 0.1082 0.1726 0.1701 0.0615 0.1167 0.0015 0.0584 0.1253 0.0563 0.0921 0.0918 0.0179 0.1422 0.0926 0.0601 0.0466 0.0506 0.1182 0.0075 0.0648 0.0229 0.4156)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 42) (line-count . 26) (looseness-spread . 0.1374) (bps q 8 17 26 36 43 52 60 67 76 82 92 99 106 115 123 130 139 149 159 168 177 185 193 202 211) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0454) (looseness-sd . 0.038084543006316876) (looseness-variance . 0.0014504324159999998) (looses q 0.042 -0.0093 0.0882 0.0366 0.0394 0.0244 0.0192 0.0573 0.1146 0.0965 -0.0094 0.0625 0.0175 0.0401 0.0754 -0.0009 0.0423 0.128 0.073 0.0176 0.0985 0.0545 0.0163 0.0164 -0.005 0.1965)) (fh-improved . 462) (bu-improved . 21) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a man.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 2) (looseness-spread . 0.0) (bps q 9) (piece-count . 18) (avg-piece-length . 16.88711111111111) (avg-looseness . 0.0477) (looseness-sd . 0.0) (looseness-variance . 0.0) (looses q 0.0477 0.0834)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 2) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0642) (bps q 6 14) (piece-count . 15) (avg-piece-length . 20.264533333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.159) (looseness-sd . 0.03209999999999999) (looseness-variance . 0.0010304099999999994) (looses q 0.1911 0.1269 0.8439)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0642) (bps q 6 14) (piece-count . 15) (avg-piece-length . 20.264533333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.159) (looseness-sd . 0.03209999999999999) (looseness-variance . 0.0010304099999999994) (looses q 0.1911 0.1269 0.8439)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 2) (looseness-spread . 0.0) (bps q 9) (piece-count . 18) (avg-piece-length . 16.88711111111111) (avg-looseness . 0.0477) (looseness-sd . 0.0) (looseness-variance . 0.0) (looses q 0.0477 0.0834)) (fh-improved . 3) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0899) (bps q 9 16 25 33 41 50 57) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0671) (looseness-sd . 0.026407195988972402) (looseness-variance . 0.0006973400000000001) (looses q 0.0848 0.0505 0.0787 0.0617 0.1062 0.0163 0.0715 0.8185)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.3551) (bps q 8 13 19 26 33 41 45) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.1097) (looseness-sd . 0.11230416242490383) (looseness-variance . 0.012612224897959183) (looses q -0.0036 0.0639 0.1717 0.0617 0.1062 0.0163 0.3515 0.5565)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1831) (bps q 8 13 19 26 32 39 45) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.1115) (looseness-sd . 0.0663018299375004) (looseness-variance . 0.004395932653061224) (looses q -0.0036 0.0639 0.1717 0.0617 0.1795 0.1757 0.1317 0.5565)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1753) (bps q 10 17 25 33 41 50 57) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0697) (looseness-sd . 0.053534467249366266) (looseness-variance . 0.0028659391836734693) (looses q -0.0036 0.0639 0.1717 0.0617 0.1062 0.0163 0.0715 0.8185)) (fh-improved . 48) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.”") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.061) (bps q 8 15 24) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 19.480574074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0524) (looseness-sd . 0.026061636343270717) (looseness-variance . 0.000679208888888889) (looses q 0.0415 0.0273 0.0883 0.6742)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.061) (bps q 6 12 20) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 22.8685) (avg-looseness . 0.0524) (looseness-sd . 0.026061636343270717) (looseness-variance . 0.000679208888888889) (looses q 0.0415 0.0273 0.0883 0.6742)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.061) (bps q 6 12 20) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 22.8685) (avg-looseness . 0.0524) (looseness-sd . 0.026061636343270717) (looseness-variance . 0.000679208888888889) (looses q 0.0415 0.0273 0.0883 0.6742)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.061) (bps q 8 15 24) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 19.480574074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0524) (looseness-sd . 0.026061636343270717) (looseness-variance . 0.000679208888888889) (looses q 0.0415 0.0273 0.0883 0.6742)) (fh-improved . 9) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak open down.") (measure . 180) (bh h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.107) (bps q 7 15 23 30 38 47 54 63 71 80 90 98 106 115 124 132 142 149 156) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0385) (looseness-sd . 0.03412602032405617) (looseness-variance . 0.0011645852631578947) (looses q 0.0734 0.0489 0.0977 0.0398 0.0254 0.0106 0.0697 0.0029 0.0405 0.094 0.0216 0.014 0.0618 0.0051 -0.0092 0.0024 0.0334 0.0017 0.0978 0.7148)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.3278) (bps q 6 13 20 25 31 37 43 52 58 64 72 79 85 90 97 104 112 120 127) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0707) (looseness-sd . 0.06986686746216027) (looseness-variance . 0.00488137916897507) (looses q 0.0734 0.0489 0.0107 0.0005 0.0708 0.1089 0.0697 0.0029 0.3205 0.1118 0.0325 0.073 0.0502 0.1292 0.0828 -0.0073 0.0769 0.0619 0.0267 0.1688)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 81) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1894) (bps q 6 13 20 25 31 37 43 50 58 64 71 78 84 90 97 104 112 120 127) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0707) (looseness-sd . 0.04771848715770963) (looseness-variance . 0.0022770540166204985) (looses q 0.0734 0.0489 0.0107 0.0005 0.0708 0.1089 0.0697 0.1413 0.1821 0.1118 0.1317 0.0703 0.0422 0.0408 0.0828 -0.0073 0.0769 0.0619 0.0267 0.1688)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1181) (bps q 7 15 24 31 39 47 54 63 71 80 90 98 107 115 124 132 142 149 156) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0394) (looseness-sd . 0.03752519965860652) (looseness-variance . 0.0014081406094182825) (looses q 0.0734 0.0489 0.0107 0.0005 0.0708 0.1089 0.0697 0.0029 0.0405 0.094 0.0216 0.014 -0.0018 0.0688 -0.0092 0.0024 0.0334 0.0017 0.0978 0.7148)) (fh-improved . 309) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in moving house.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.1027) (bps q 10 18 26 36 46 58 66 75 85 96 106 117 126 136 145 155 167) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0644) (looseness-sd . 0.03217046292985395) (looseness-variance . 0.0010349386851211072) (looses q 0.1047 0.0667 0.0663 0.0595 0.1111 0.0272 0.0765 0.0121 0.05 0.0793 0.0761 0.0619 0.0681 0.1002 0.0159 0.1106 0.0084 0.8676)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.2336) (bps q 7 13 20 31 39 47 52 59 65 73 81 90 97 102 110 118 126) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0751) (looseness-sd . 0.07340981049435157) (looseness-variance . 0.005389000276816609) (looses q 0.0004 0.1593 0.0663 0.0038 0.0051 0.0197 0.234 0.0121 0.05 0.0793 0.0761 0.0619 0.2129 0.1277 0.0183 0.0013 0.1482 0.692)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.1194) (bps q 6 13 20 30 37 44 51 57 64 71 80 89 97 102 109 117 126) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0765) (looseness-sd . 0.03642954426700573) (looseness-variance . 0.00132711169550173) (looses q 0.1047 0.0667 0.0663 0.0595 0.1111 0.1226 0.0637 0.0754 0.0539 0.068 0.0713 0.0109 0.1303 0.1277 0.119 0.0165 0.0323 0.692)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1122) (bps q 11 19 28 39 49 60 67 76 86 97 108 119 128 138 147 158) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0477) (looseness-sd . 0.029975963678212248) (looseness-variance . 0.0008985583984375) (looses q 0.0004 0.0204 -0.0002 0.0283 0.0472 0.112 0.0767 0.0432 0.0533 0.0398 0.0136 0.0666 0.0798 0.043 0.0633 0.0763 0.0851)) (fh-improved . 326) (bu-improved . 17) (bh-improved . 29)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and everything would be smooth again.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0605) (bps q 11 21 30 37 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0301) (looseness-sd . 0.02444229121829621) (looseness-variance . 0.0005974256) (looses q 0.0115 -0.002 0.0245 0.0579 0.0585 0.8823)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0605) (bps q 10 19 28 35 42) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0301) (looseness-sd . 0.02444229121829621) (looseness-variance . 0.0005974256) (looses q 0.0115 -0.002 0.0245 0.0579 0.0585 0.8823)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0605) (bps q 10 19 28 35 42) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0301) (looseness-sd . 0.02444229121829621) (looseness-variance . 0.0005974256) (looses q 0.0115 -0.002 0.0245 0.0579 0.0585 0.8823)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0605) (bps q 11 21 30 37 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0301) (looseness-sd . 0.02444229121829621) (looseness-variance . 0.0005974256) (looses q 0.0115 -0.002 0.0245 0.0579 0.0585 0.8823)) (fh-improved . 11) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary lodgings just at first.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0967) (bps q 8 18 27 35 46 56 65 75) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0943) (looseness-sd . 0.03127466026993739) (looseness-variance . 0.000978104375) (looses q 0.1225 0.0762 0.1105 0.068 0.0772 0.1376 0.1213 0.0409 0.6637)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1266) (bps q 7 12 19 25 36 46 53 60) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.11) (looseness-sd . 0.04142846055249941) (looseness-variance . 0.0017163173437499998) (looses q 0.1225 0.1644 0.0378 0.068 0.0772 0.1376 0.1213 0.1509 0.5691)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1266) (bps q 7 12 19 25 35 45 52 60) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.1085) (looseness-sd . 0.044704697739723055) (looseness-variance . 0.0019985099999999998) (looses q 0.1225 0.1644 0.0378 0.068 0.1623 0.1051 0.1432 0.0647 0.5691)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0967) (bps q 8 18 27 35 46 56 65 75) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0943) (looseness-sd . 0.03127466026993739) (looseness-variance . 0.000978104375) (looses q 0.1225 0.0762 0.1105 0.068 0.0772 0.1376 0.1213 0.0409 0.6637)) (fh-improved . 72) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve found a place to settle in, sir.”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1105) (bps q 10 20 29 39 48 57) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0566) (looseness-sd . 0.04178992768066912) (looseness-variance . 0.0017463980555555555) (looses q 0.0338 0.0006 0.1009 0.0756 0.0175 0.1111 0.3747)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.2347) (bps q 8 14 23 33 42 51) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0611) (looseness-sd . 0.0766055571671461) (looseness-variance . 0.005868411388888888) (looses q 0.2215 0.0514 0.0715 -0.0132 0.017 0.0185 0.3747)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.2347) (bps q 8 14 23 33 42 51) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0611) (looseness-sd . 0.0766055571671461) (looseness-variance . 0.005868411388888888) (looses q 0.2215 0.0514 0.0715 -0.0132 0.017 0.0185 0.3747)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1105) (bps q 10 20 29 39 48 57) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0566) (looseness-sd . 0.04178992768066912) (looseness-variance . 0.0017463980555555555) (looses q 0.0338 0.0006 0.1009 0.0756 0.0175 0.1111 0.3747)) (fh-improved . 32) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy and the schoolmaster were left standing alone.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0333) (bps q 11 21 31 40 50 62) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0353) (looseness-sd . 0.010276618553244491) (looseness-variance . 0.0001056088888888889) (looses q 0.0371 0.0137 0.047 0.0372 0.0397 0.0373 0.0006)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1802) (bps q 8 16 26 34 42 49 56) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0515) (looseness-sd . 0.05523542932811534) (looseness-variance . 0.003050952653061225) (looses q 0.0371 0.0137 0.047 0.0372 0.1815 0.0013 0.0428 0.8796)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1172) (bps q 8 16 25 33 42 49 56) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0515) (looseness-sd . 0.040237985911375854) (looseness-variance . 0.0016190955102040815) (looses q 0.0371 0.0137 0.1185 0.1022 0.045 0.0013 0.0428 0.8796)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0333) (bps q 11 21 31 40 50 62) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0353) (looseness-sd . 0.010276618553244491) (looseness-variance . 0.0001056088888888889) (looses q 0.0371 0.0137 0.047 0.0372 0.0397 0.0373 0.0006)) (fh-improved . 40) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, but one who had attended the night school only during the present teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1108) (bps q 9 19 29 38 46 57 65 76) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0638) (looseness-sd . 0.0377803499686014) (looseness-variance . 0.0014273548437499998) (looses q 0.1064 0.1183 0.0359 0.018 0.0075 0.0847 0.0761 0.0638 0.0271)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1896) (bps q 10 17 22 30 37 45 53 59 64) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0797) (looseness-sd . 0.053568149740929695) (looseness-variance . 0.0028695466666666665) (looses q 0.0213 0.0759 0.0655 0.1314 0.0075 0.0847 0.0761 0.1971 0.0575 0.8755)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1896) (bps q 10 17 22 30 37 45 53 59 64) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0797) (looseness-sd . 0.053568149740929695) (looseness-variance . 0.0028695466666666665) (looses q 0.0213 0.0759 0.0655 0.1314 0.0075 0.0847 0.0761 0.1971 0.0575 0.8755)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1239) (bps q 10 20 30 38 46 57 65 76) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0658) (looseness-sd . 0.03579786131879948) (looseness-variance . 0.0012814868749999998) (looses q 0.0213 0.0759 0.0655 0.1314 0.0075 0.0847 0.0761 0.0638 0.0271)) (fh-improved . 69) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that he was sorry.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0992) (bps q 8 17 27) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0801) (looseness-sd . 0.040739933998746515) (looseness-variance . 0.0016597422222222223) (looses q 0.1328 0.0738 0.0336 0.5463)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.156) (bps q 8 15 23) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.1273) (looseness-sd . 0.07216647421067486) (looseness-variance . 0.005208) (looses q 0.0253 0.1813 0.1753 0.4201)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1015) (bps q 7 15 23) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.1273) (looseness-sd . 0.04161930641741483) (looseness-variance . 0.0017321666666666668) (looses q 0.1328 0.0738 0.1753 0.4201)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.156) (bps q 9 17 27) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0801) (looseness-sd . 0.07166293013515115) (looseness-variance . 0.005135575555555555) (looses q 0.0253 0.1813 0.0336 0.5463)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.16) (bps q 8 16) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 21.266999999999996) (avg-looseness . 0.1234) (looseness-sd . 0.08) (looseness-variance . 0.0063999999999999994) (looses q 0.2034 0.0434 0.2648)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.16) (bps q 8 14) (piece-count . 20) (avg-piece-length . 24.457049999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.1234) (looseness-sd . 0.08) (looseness-variance . 0.0063999999999999994) (looses q 0.2034 0.0434 0.2648)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.16) (bps q 8 14) (piece-count . 20) (avg-piece-length . 24.457049999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.1234) (looseness-sd . 0.08) (looseness-variance . 0.0063999999999999994) (looses q 0.2034 0.0434 0.2648)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.16) (bps q 8 16) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 21.266999999999996) (avg-looseness . 0.1234) (looseness-sd . 0.08) (looseness-variance . 0.0063999999999999994) (looses q 0.2034 0.0434 0.2648)) (fh-improved . 2) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should have elsewhere.”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0961) (bps q 8 20 32 42 54 64 76 86 99 111) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0443) (looseness-sd . 0.031026087410435752) (looseness-variance . 0.0009626181) (looses q 0.0544 0.0757 0.0256 0.0888 0.023 0.0306 0.0251 0.0972 0.0212 0.0011 0.2253)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.17) (bps q 7 15 24 32 40 49 59 68 77 86) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0474) (looseness-sd . 0.04983898173117104) (looseness-variance . 0.0024839241000000007) (looses q 0.0544 0.0757 0.0256 0.0888 0.1627 -0.0038 0.0553 -0.0073 0.0212 0.0011 0.2253)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1403) (bps q 7 15 23 31 40 49 59 68 77 86) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0485) (looseness-sd . 0.043019029510206294) (looseness-variance . 0.0018506369000000002) (looses q 0.0544 0.0757 0.133 0.0792 0.0761 -0.0038 0.0553 -0.0073 0.0212 0.0011 0.2253)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0961) (bps q 8 20 32 42 54 64 76 86 99 111) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0443) (looseness-sd . 0.031026087410435752) (looseness-variance . 0.0009626181) (looses q 0.0544 0.0757 0.0256 0.0888 0.023 0.0306 0.0251 0.0972 0.0212 0.0011 0.2253)) (fh-improved . 135) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0726) (bps q 9 18 28 37 47 55 66) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0495) (looseness-sd . 0.024032469532628865) (looseness-variance . 0.0005775595918367347) (looses q 0.0353 0.0613 0.0781 0.0563 0.0754 0.0055 0.0343 0.6066)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1621) (bps q 7 14 20 28 36 43 51) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.05995563666034195) (looseness-variance . 0.003594678367346939) (looses q 0.0353 0.1585 -0.0036 -0.0024 0.123 0.0055 0.0343 0.6066)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1446) (bps q 6 14 20 27 36 43 51) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0532) (looseness-sd . 0.045011708227427005) (looseness-variance . 0.00202605387755102) (looses q 0.141 0.0638 -0.0036 0.0563 0.0754 0.0055 0.0343 0.6066)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1175) (bps q 9 18 29 38 47 55 66) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0479) (looseness-sd . 0.03513332623371858) (looseness-variance . 0.001234350612244898) (looses q 0.0353 0.0613 0.0224 0.0533 0.123 0.0055 0.0343 0.6066)) (fh-improved . 63) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.034) (bps q 9 18 26) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.062) (looseness-sd . 0.015349339471854228) (looseness-variance . 0.00023560222222222222) (looses q 0.0404 0.0744 0.0713 0.0337)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.034) (bps q 8 15 23) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.062) (looseness-sd . 0.015349339471854228) (looseness-variance . 0.00023560222222222222) (looses q 0.0404 0.0744 0.0713 0.0337)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.034) (bps q 8 15 23) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.062) (looseness-sd . 0.015349339471854228) (looseness-variance . 0.00023560222222222222) (looses q 0.0404 0.0744 0.0713 0.0337)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.034) (bps q 9 18 26) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.062) (looseness-sd . 0.015349339471854228) (looseness-variance . 0.00023560222222222222) (looses q 0.0404 0.0744 0.0713 0.0337)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. “Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt me out for old acquaintance’ sake.”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1268) (bps q 9 19 29 40 50) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0594) (looseness-sd . 0.047182598487154136) (looseness-variance . 0.0022261975999999994) (looses q 0.1372 0.0879 0.0415 0.0201 0.0104 0.4916)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1718) (bps q 8 17 25 36 43) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0649) (looseness-sd . 0.062146877636772714) (looseness-variance . 0.0038622344) (looses q 0.0701 0.1822 0.0415 0.0201 0.0104 0.4916)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1718) (bps q 8 17 25 36 43) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0649) (looseness-sd . 0.062146877636772714) (looseness-variance . 0.0038622344) (looses q 0.0701 0.1822 0.0415 0.0201 0.0104 0.4916)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1718) (bps q 10 19 29 40 50) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0649) (looseness-sd . 0.062146877636772714) (looseness-variance . 0.0038622344) (looses q 0.0701 0.1822 0.0415 0.0201 0.0104 0.4916)) (fh-improved . 19) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the hart’s-tongue fern.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.121) (bps q 9 19 28 37 47 57 67 77 86 97 106 115 125 134 146 159 169 179) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.049) (looseness-sd . 0.030105614504463418) (looseness-variance . 0.0009063480246913581) (looses q 0.028 0.0051 0.1169 0.0161 0.0306 0.0319 0.0477 0.0611 0.0428 0.0922 0.0512 0.0434 0.0709 0.0738 -0.0041 0.0731 0.073 0.0275 0.4245)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.1654) (bps q 7 14 23 32 41 50 60 68 76 84 92 100 109 116 123 132 141 150) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.04628518181400561) (looseness-variance . 0.0021423180555555556) (looses q 0.1585 0.0363 0.044 0.0092 0.0474 -0.0061 -0.0069 0.0611 0.0428 0.0922 0.0512 0.0434 0.0709 0.0738 -0.0041 0.1521 0.0094 0.0275 0.4245)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.1646) (bps q 7 14 23 32 41 50 59 67 75 83 92 100 109 116 123 132 141 150) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0502) (looseness-sd . 0.0480904385276094) (looseness-variance . 0.0023126902777777783) (looses q 0.1585 0.0363 0.044 0.0092 0.0474 -0.0061 0.1271 0.0215 0.0329 0.0452 0.0155 0.0434 0.0709 0.0738 -0.0041 0.1521 0.0094 0.0275 0.4245)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.142) (bps q 9 19 29 38 47 57 68 78 87 98 108 117 128 137 150 163 173 182) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0283) (looseness-sd . 0.031064697521443297) (looseness-variance . 0.0009650154320987654) (looses q 0.028 0.0051 0.0022 0.0119 0.1339 0.0319 -0.0081 -0.0029 0.0198 0.0312 0.0113 0.0293 0.0058 0.0559 0.0384 0.0285 0.0538 0.0336 0.7459)) (fh-improved . 270) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 31)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place like this!”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.097) (bps q 11 23 33 42 51 62 72 82 91) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0361) (looseness-sd . 0.031220960828612056) (looseness-variance . 0.0009747483950617283) (looses q 0.0089 0.0106 0.0363 0.0266 0.005 0.102 0.077 0.0398 0.0189 0.808)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1729) (bps q 8 16 25 33 42 52 61 69 78) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0548) (looseness-sd . 0.0586188462510349) (looseness-variance . 0.0034361691358024684) (looses q 0.0089 0.0106 0.1702 -0.0027 0.0589 0.0381 0.1377 0.0697 0.0014 0.6818)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1102) (bps q 8 15 25 33 42 51 61 69 78) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0547) (looseness-sd . 0.03985064090133198) (looseness-variance . 0.0015880735802469136) (looses q 0.0089 0.1026 0.0782 -0.0027 0.0589 0.0682 0.1075 0.0697 0.0014 0.6818)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.097) (bps q 11 23 33 42 51 62 73 83 91) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0377) (looseness-sd . 0.03268332152907411) (looseness-variance . 0.0010681995061728395) (looses q 0.0089 0.0106 0.0363 0.0266 0.005 0.102 0.0117 0.0637 0.0747 0.808)) (fh-improved . 85) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry:") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0485) (bps q 10 21 30 39) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0274) (looseness-sd . 0.017418237568709413) (looseness-variance . 0.00030339500000000003) (looses q 0.0504 0.0326 0.0019 0.0247 0.2059)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0485) (bps q 10 19 27 36) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0274) (looseness-sd . 0.017418237568709413) (looseness-variance . 0.00030339500000000003) (looses q 0.0504 0.0326 0.0019 0.0247 0.2059)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0485) (bps q 10 19 27 36) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0274) (looseness-sd . 0.017418237568709413) (looseness-variance . 0.00030339500000000003) (looses q 0.0504 0.0326 0.0019 0.0247 0.2059)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0485) (bps q 10 21 30 39) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0274) (looseness-sd . 0.017418237568709413) (looseness-variance . 0.00030339500000000003) (looses q 0.0504 0.0326 0.0019 0.0247 0.2059)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1019) (bps q 9 19 28 37 47 56 66 74 81 92) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0328) (looseness-sd . 0.034532837995160486) (looseness-variance . 0.0011925169) (looses q 0.0023 0.0727 0.0632 0.0953 0.0427 -0.0042 0.0074 -0.0066 0.0069 0.0482 0.1641)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1019) (bps q 9 18 26 34 44 52 61 69 76 85) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0328) (looseness-sd . 0.034532837995160486) (looseness-variance . 0.0011925169) (looses q 0.0023 0.0727 0.0632 0.0953 0.0427 -0.0042 0.0074 -0.0066 0.0069 0.0482 0.1641)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1019) (bps q 9 18 26 34 44 52 61 69 76 85) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0328) (looseness-sd . 0.034532837995160486) (looseness-variance . 0.0011925169) (looses q 0.0023 0.0727 0.0632 0.0953 0.0427 -0.0042 0.0074 -0.0066 0.0069 0.0482 0.1641)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1019) (bps q 9 19 28 37 47 56 66 74 81 92) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0328) (looseness-sd . 0.034532837995160486) (looseness-variance . 0.0011925169) (looses q 0.0023 0.0727 0.0632 0.0953 0.0427 -0.0042 0.0074 -0.0066 0.0069 0.0482 0.1641)) (fh-improved . 35) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses warranted to last five years.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.1406) (bps q 11 22 31 41 51 57 63 71 81 89 96 105 116 124 134 145 154 163 175 185 194 204 213 222 231 241) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0654) (looseness-sd . 0.03381199346928341) (looseness-variance . 0.001143250902366864) (looses q 0.0723 0.0759 0.0725 0.1072 0.1205 0.0174 0.0313 0.1019 0.0324 -0.0029 0.0644 0.0268 0.0603 0.0598 0.0521 0.1377 0.1005 0.0723 0.1 0.032 0.0914 0.0979 0.0445 0.0483 0.0447 0.0381 0.2452)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.1467) (bps q 11 19 27 35 43 49 55 63 71 77 84 93 102 110 117 126 133 143 150 159 167 174 182 189 194 200) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0671) (looseness-sd . 0.04529436218297074) (looseness-variance . 0.00205157924556213) (looses q 0.0288 0.1194 0.029 0.0064 0.0623 0.0319 0.1188 0.0988 0.0888 0.0753 0.0644 0.0268 0.0603 0.0052 0.1066 0.1377 -0.0033 0.0655 0.0016 0.1058 0.1434 0.0121 0.1145 0.0795 0.1274 0.0381 0.2452)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 57) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.1313) (bps q 10 19 27 35 43 49 55 63 71 77 84 93 102 109 117 126 132 141 148 157 166 173 181 188 194 200) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0671) (looseness-sd . 0.033790681158214236) (looseness-variance . 0.0011418101331360946) (looses q 0.0723 0.0759 0.029 0.0064 0.0623 0.0319 0.1188 0.0988 0.0888 0.0753 0.0644 0.0268 0.0603 0.0598 0.0521 0.1377 0.1005 0.0723 0.1 0.032 0.0914 0.0241 0.1337 0.0483 0.0447 0.0381 0.2452)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 27) (looseness-spread . 0.1467) (bps q 12 22 32 43 52 58 64 72 82 89 96 105 116 125 134 145 155 165 177 187 195 206 214 223 232 241) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0665) (looseness-sd . 0.04623496029255825) (looseness-variance . 0.0021376715532544378) (looses q 0.0288 0.1194 0.029 0.0064 0.0623 0.0319 0.1188 0.0988 0.0888 0.0753 0.0644 0.0268 0.0603 0.0052 0.1066 0.1377 -0.0033 0.0655 0.0016 0.1058 0.1434 0.0121 0.1145 0.0795 0.0175 0.1324 0.2452)) (fh-improved . 469) (bu-improved . 13) (bh-improved . 23)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0799) (bps q 10 20 30 43 52 61 72 81) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0345) (looseness-sd . 0.0251587335730557) (looseness-variance . 0.000632961875) (looses q 0.0462 0.039 0.0804 0.0005 0.0022 0.0546 0.0206 0.0327 0.0798)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0799) (bps q 8 16 23 32 39 46 56 64) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0345) (looseness-sd . 0.0251587335730557) (looseness-variance . 0.000632961875) (looses q 0.0462 0.039 0.0804 0.0005 0.0022 0.0546 0.0206 0.0327 0.0798)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0799) (bps q 8 16 23 32 39 46 56 64) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0345) (looseness-sd . 0.0251587335730557) (looseness-variance . 0.000632961875) (looses q 0.0462 0.039 0.0804 0.0005 0.0022 0.0546 0.0206 0.0327 0.0798)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0799) (bps q 10 20 30 43 52 61 72 81) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0345) (looseness-sd . 0.0251587335730557) (looseness-variance . 0.000632961875) (looses q 0.0462 0.039 0.0804 0.0005 0.0022 0.0546 0.0206 0.0327 0.0798)) (fh-improved . 85) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.082) (bps q 12 23 30 39 49 60 70) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0167) (looseness-sd . 0.027000657588364056) (looseness-variance . 0.0007290355102040815) (looses q 0.0017 -0.0075 0.0717 0.0023 -0.0103 0.0312 0.0277 0.8625)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.082) (bps q 9 16 23 32 39 46 54) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0167) (looseness-sd . 0.027000657588364056) (looseness-variance . 0.0007290355102040815) (looses q 0.0017 -0.0075 0.0717 0.0023 -0.0103 0.0312 0.0277 0.8625)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.082) (bps q 9 16 23 32 39 46 54) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0167) (looseness-sd . 0.027000657588364056) (looseness-variance . 0.0007290355102040815) (looses q 0.0017 -0.0075 0.0717 0.0023 -0.0103 0.0312 0.0277 0.8625)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.082) (bps q 12 23 30 39 49 60 70) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0167) (looseness-sd . 0.027000657588364056) (looseness-variance . 0.0007290355102040815) (looses q 0.0017 -0.0075 0.0717 0.0023 -0.0103 0.0312 0.0277 0.8625)) (fh-improved . 64) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1335) (bps q 9 17 26 36 47 59 68 77 86 96 105 116 126 135 146 157 167 177 186 197 206) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0417) (looseness-sd . 0.03279110824667796) (looseness-variance . 0.0010752567800453516) (looses q 0.0461 0.0353 0.0373 0.0384 0.0343 0.0102 0.0087 0.0267 0.0711 0.1261 0.1126 0.0394 -0.0074 0.0483 0.0084 0.0232 0.0395 0.0707 0.0272 0.0069 0.0723 0.291)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1347) (bps q 9 17 25 33 42 49 56 65 73 81 90 98 107 115 126 137 147 156 164 173 181) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0417) (looseness-sd . 0.03688739499201661) (looseness-variance . 0.001360679909297052) (looses q 0.0461 0.0353 0.0016 -0.0086 0.0321 0.095 0.0087 0.0267 0.0711 0.1261 0.1126 0.0394 -0.0074 0.0483 0.0084 0.0232 0.0395 0.0707 0.0272 0.0069 0.0723 0.291)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 38) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1335) (bps q 9 17 24 32 41 49 56 65 73 81 90 98 107 115 126 137 147 156 164 173 181) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0417) (looseness-sd . 0.03279110824667796) (looseness-variance . 0.0010752567800453516) (looses q 0.0461 0.0353 0.0373 0.0384 0.0343 0.0102 0.0087 0.0267 0.0711 0.1261 0.1126 0.0394 -0.0074 0.0483 0.0084 0.0232 0.0395 0.0707 0.0272 0.0069 0.0723 0.291)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1347) (bps q 9 17 27 37 48 59 68 77 86 96 105 116 126 135 146 157 167 177 186 197 206) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0417) (looseness-sd . 0.03688739499201661) (looseness-variance . 0.001360679909297052) (looses q 0.0461 0.0353 0.0016 -0.0086 0.0321 0.095 0.0087 0.0267 0.0711 0.1261 0.1126 0.0394 -0.0074 0.0483 0.0084 0.0232 0.0395 0.0707 0.0272 0.0069 0.0723 0.291)) (fh-improved . 298) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1234) (bps q 9 19 29 39 48 58) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0787) (looseness-sd . 0.04399299186612946) (looseness-variance . 0.001935383333333333) (looses q 0.0637 0.1164 0.0453 0.054 0.0347 0.1581 0.8416)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1234) (bps q 7 16 23 32 39 48) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0787) (looseness-sd . 0.04399299186612946) (looseness-variance . 0.001935383333333333) (looses q 0.0637 0.1164 0.0453 0.054 0.0347 0.1581 0.8416)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1234) (bps q 7 16 23 32 39 48) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0787) (looseness-sd . 0.04399299186612946) (looseness-variance . 0.001935383333333333) (looses q 0.0637 0.1164 0.0453 0.054 0.0347 0.1581 0.8416)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0817) (bps q 9 19 29 39 48 59) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0609) (looseness-sd . 0.026311763317742296) (looseness-variance . 0.000692308888888889) (looses q 0.0637 0.1164 0.0453 0.054 0.0347 0.0515 0.9171)) (fh-improved . 38) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little maid should know such changes!”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.1288) (bps q 8 19 29 39 50 61 70 80 89 98 107 117 126 135 143 153 163 173) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0573) (looseness-sd . 0.03540373881699816) (looseness-variance . 0.001253424722222222) (looses q 0.0785 0.0132 0.0578 0.0215 0.0347 0.0333 0.0487 0.072 0.0582 0.0636 0.0558 0.0335 0.104 0.1228 0.0656 0.0103 0.0191 0.1391 0.3982)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.1528) (bps q 8 15 24 30 40 50 58 68 77 85 93 102 111 121 129 138 148 157) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0605) (looseness-sd . 0.04918429345047281) (looseness-variance . 0.0024190947222222222) (looses q -0.0008 0.0138 0.152 0.0215 0.0347 0.1317 0.1463 0.0247 0.0663 0.0206 0.0711 0.075 0.0682 0.0307 0.0656 0.0103 0.0191 0.1391 0.3982)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.1528) (bps q 8 15 24 30 39 50 58 68 77 85 93 102 111 121 129 138 148 157) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0605) (looseness-sd . 0.04645343247693209) (looseness-variance . 0.0021579213888888887) (looses q -0.0008 0.0138 0.152 0.0215 0.0819 0.0845 0.1463 0.0247 0.0663 0.0206 0.0711 0.075 0.0682 0.0307 0.0656 0.0103 0.0191 0.1391 0.3982)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 38) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.1399) (bps q 9 20 30 40 50 61 71 81 89 98 107 117 126 135 143 153 163 173) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.058) (looseness-sd . 0.043841662354713366) (looseness-variance . 0.0019220913580246914) (looses q -0.0008 0.0138 0.0568 0.0355 0.0998 0.0333 0.0005 0.0574 0.1331 0.0636 0.0558 0.0335 0.104 0.1228 0.0656 0.0103 0.0191 0.1391 0.3982)) (fh-improved . 212) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 6)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, and he descended into the midst of it.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1292) (bps q 10 21 31 40 50 60 71 81 90 100 107) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0488) (looseness-sd . 0.03369343070581078) (looseness-variance . 0.0011352472727272727) (looses q 0.0367 0.0302 0.0408 0.1416 0.0124 0.0781 0.0454 0.0578 0.0229 0.0326 0.0383 0.5934)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.2067) (bps q 6 13 21 30 38 47 57 65 74 83 90) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0519) (looseness-sd . 0.0582226987061584) (looseness-variance . 0.003389882644628099) (looses q 0.1294 0.1971 -0.0052 0.0514 -0.0096 0.0109 0.0454 0.0578 0.0229 0.0326 0.0383 0.5934)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.2067) (bps q 6 13 21 30 38 47 57 65 74 83 90) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0519) (looseness-sd . 0.0582226987061584) (looseness-variance . 0.003389882644628099) (looses q 0.1294 0.1971 -0.0052 0.0514 -0.0096 0.0109 0.0454 0.0578 0.0229 0.0326 0.0383 0.5934)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1292) (bps q 10 21 31 40 50 61 71 81 90 100 107) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0488) (looseness-sd . 0.033970843113148984) (looseness-variance . 0.0011540181818181817) (looses q 0.0367 0.0302 0.0408 0.1416 0.0124 0.0425 0.081 0.0578 0.0229 0.0326 0.0383 0.5934)) (fh-improved . 138) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0855) (bps q 10 19 29 39 49 60 70 79 89 98) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0335) (looseness-sd . 0.026560054593317388) (looseness-variance . 0.0007054365) (looses q 0.0379 0.0616 0.0078 0.0194 0.0805 0.0636 0.0344 0.0296 -0.005 0.0057 0.7483)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1042) (bps q 9 19 28 35 44 52 62 70 79 88) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0335) (looseness-sd . 0.030965311236930915) (looseness-variance . 0.0009588504999999999) (looses q 0.0379 -0.0017 0.0711 0.0194 0.0449 0.0992 0.0344 0.0296 -0.005 0.0057 0.7483)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0855) (bps q 9 18 28 35 43 52 62 70 79 88) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0335) (looseness-sd . 0.026560054593317388) (looseness-variance . 0.0007054365) (looses q 0.0379 0.0616 0.0078 0.0194 0.0805 0.0636 0.0344 0.0296 -0.005 0.0057 0.7483)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1042) (bps q 10 20 29 39 50 60 70 79 89 98) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0335) (looseness-sd . 0.030965311236930915) (looseness-variance . 0.0009588504999999999) (looses q 0.0379 -0.0017 0.0711 0.0194 0.0449 0.0992 0.0344 0.0296 -0.005 0.0057 0.7483)) (fh-improved . 58) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and in the other that of a granary good to feed in.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 69) (line-count . 28) (looseness-spread . 0.1285) (bps q 9 19 31 42 52 60 69 77 86 95 104 113 122 131 140 150 161 170 180 189 198 208 218 228 238 248 259) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0472) (looseness-sd . 0.03550639232233541) (looseness-variance . 0.0012607038957475993) (looses q 0.0132 0.0569 0.0059 0.0698 0.0793 0.0103 0.0845 0.0191 0.0646 0.0469 0.1128 0.0949 0.1184 0.038 0.0395 0.0119 -0.0101 -0.0017 0.0592 0.0639 0.0648 0.0619 0.0485 0.0161 0.0914 0.0074 0.0081 0.3053)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 29) (looseness-spread . 0.2331) (bps q 8 16 24 32 40 48 54 61 69 78 85 91 99 105 112 118 126 133 142 151 158 167 175 183 190 199 208 217) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0706) (looseness-sd . 0.06347309358849526) (looseness-variance . 0.004028833609693878) (looses q 0.0132 0.0569 0.0059 0.0141 0.135 0.0103 0.0845 0.0191 0.0646 0.0469 0.2289 0.006 0.1184 0.1879 0.1 0.1052 0.0414 -0.0042 0.1005 0.025 0.2003 0.0508 0.0136 0.0024 0.0787 0.0239 0.1459 0.1011 0.6737)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 29) (looseness-spread . 0.1859) (bps q 7 15 22 29 38 45 51 59 66 74 83 89 97 104 111 117 125 131 140 150 158 167 175 183 190 198 208 217) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0693) (looseness-sd . 0.04113306555111901) (looseness-variance . 0.0016919290816326531) (looses q 0.1022 0.1778 0.0569 0.0499 0.0547 0.1194 0.0582 0.0458 0.0634 0.0871 0.0797 0.0395 0.1006 -0.0081 0.1437 0.0615 0.121 0.0325 0.0598 0.0391 0.028 0.0508 0.0136 0.0024 0.0787 0.0901 0.0914 0.1011 0.6737)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 50) (line-count . 28) (looseness-spread . 0.1451) (bps q 9 19 31 43 52 60 69 77 86 95 105 114 123 132 141 150 161 170 180 190 199 208 218 228 238 248 259) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0463) (looseness-sd . 0.04087562284797477) (looseness-variance . 0.0016708165432098767) (looses q 0.0132 0.0569 0.0059 0.0141 0.135 0.0103 0.0845 0.0191 0.0646 0.0469 0.0685 0.0064 0.0999 0.1002 0.0086 0.1071 -0.0101 -0.0017 0.0592 0.0282 0.0479 0.1145 0.0485 0.0161 0.0914 0.0074 0.0081 0.3053)) (fh-improved . 733) (bu-improved . 40) (bh-improved . 8)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1542) (bps q 8 16 25 35 44 53 64) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0656) (looseness-sd . 0.05553477307424748) (looseness-variance . 0.003084111020408163) (looses q 0.1041 0.1534 0.1058 -0.0006 -0.0008 0.0221 0.0755 0.4588)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.2167) (bps q 7 14 22 31 38 44 51) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0828) (looseness-sd . 0.0804611301771716) (looseness-variance . 0.006473993469387755) (looses q 0.2159 0.0577 0.1058 -0.0006 -0.0008 0.1777 0.0237 0.3705)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1965) (bps q 7 14 22 30 37 44 51) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0828) (looseness-sd . 0.0652693070974374) (looseness-variance . 0.004260082448979592) (looses q 0.2159 0.0577 0.1058 0.1196 0.0372 0.0194 0.0237 0.3705)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1542) (bps q 8 16 25 35 44 53 64) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0656) (looseness-sd . 0.05553477307424748) (looseness-variance . 0.003084111020408163) (looses q 0.1041 0.1534 0.1058 -0.0006 -0.0008 0.0221 0.0755 0.4588)) (fh-improved . 38) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1028) (bps q 8 18 24 36 44 52 62 71 81 91) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0418) (looseness-sd . 0.03934043848255889) (looseness-variance . 0.0015476701000000002) (looses q 0.0957 0.007 0.0907 0.0269 0.0147 0.0808 0.0253 0.0859 -0.0071 -0.0016 0.3145)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1084) (bps q 9 17 23 33 40 48 55 64 73 83) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0395) (looseness-sd . 0.03942915165204547) (looseness-variance . 0.001554658) (looses q -0.0086 0.017 0.0726 0.0309 0.0998 0.0808 0.0253 0.0859 -0.0071 -0.0016 0.3145)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1028) (bps q 8 16 22 32 40 48 55 64 73 83) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0418) (looseness-sd . 0.03934043848255889) (looseness-variance . 0.0015476701000000002) (looses q 0.0957 0.007 0.0907 0.0269 0.0147 0.0808 0.0253 0.0859 -0.0071 -0.0016 0.3145)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1084) (bps q 9 19 25 37 44 52 62 71 81 91) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0395) (looseness-sd . 0.03942915165204547) (looseness-variance . 0.001554658) (looses q -0.0086 0.017 0.0726 0.0309 0.0998 0.0808 0.0253 0.0859 -0.0071 -0.0016 0.3145)) (fh-improved . 46) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a good meal!”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0921) (bps q 8 16 24 34) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0431) (looseness-sd . 0.042086599708220665) (looseness-variance . 0.001771281875) (looses q 0.0912 0.0035 0.0787 -0.0009 0.2094)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0921) (bps q 7 14 22 32) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0431) (looseness-sd . 0.042086599708220665) (looseness-variance . 0.001771281875) (looses q 0.0912 0.0035 0.0787 -0.0009 0.2094)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0921) (bps q 7 14 22 32) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0431) (looseness-sd . 0.042086599708220665) (looseness-variance . 0.001771281875) (looses q 0.0912 0.0035 0.0787 -0.0009 0.2094)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0921) (bps q 8 16 24 34) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0431) (looseness-sd . 0.042086599708220665) (looseness-variance . 0.001771281875) (looses q 0.0912 0.0035 0.0787 -0.0009 0.2094)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much resembled his own.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0741) (bps q 9 17 27 36) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0315) (looseness-sd . 0.02737982834131726) (looseness-variance . 0.000749655) (looses q 0.076 0.0019 0.0201 0.028 0.2157)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0741) (bps q 9 17 25 34) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0315) (looseness-sd . 0.02737982834131726) (looseness-variance . 0.000749655) (looses q 0.076 0.0019 0.0201 0.028 0.2157)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0741) (bps q 9 17 25 34) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0315) (looseness-sd . 0.02737982834131726) (looseness-variance . 0.000749655) (looses q 0.076 0.0019 0.0201 0.028 0.2157)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0741) (bps q 9 17 27 36) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0315) (looseness-sd . 0.02737982834131726) (looseness-variance . 0.000749655) (looses q 0.076 0.0019 0.0201 0.028 0.2157)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the clacker swinging in his hand.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1469) (bps q 9 19 28 38 48 57 66 75 85 96 105 114) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0351) (looseness-sd . 0.0387834828460089) (looseness-variance . 0.0015041585416666666) (looses q 0.0405 0.039 0.1445 0.0165 0.0375 0.0118 0.01 0.0006 -0.0024 0.021 0.0268 0.0757 0.3854)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1906) (bps q 9 17 25 34 42 50 58 66 73 82 89 96) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0377) (looseness-sd . 0.05519959930913347) (looseness-variance . 0.0030469957638888886) (looses q 0.0405 0.1838 0.0151 0.0165 0.0375 0.0118 0.01 0.0006 -0.0024 0.021 0.1247 -0.0068 0.3854)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1676) (bps q 8 17 25 34 42 50 58 66 73 82 89 96) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0377) (looseness-sd . 0.050855448741178824) (looseness-variance . 0.0025862766666666665) (looses q 0.1608 0.0636 0.0151 0.0165 0.0375 0.0118 0.01 0.0006 -0.0024 0.021 0.1247 -0.0068 0.3854)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0902) (bps q 9 19 29 39 49 58 67 75 85 96 105 114) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0303) (looseness-sd . 0.027471392948948833) (looseness-variance . 0.0007546774305555557) (looses q 0.0405 0.039 0.0433 0.0071 0.033 -0.0069 0.0031 0.0833 -0.0024 0.021 0.0268 0.0757 0.3854)) (fh-improved . 104) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1225) (bps q 9 16 25 33 42 51 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0576) (looseness-sd . 0.036651580693701856) (looseness-variance . 0.0013433383673469388) (looses q 0.1169 0.0745 0.0482 0.0683 0.0759 0.0249 -0.0056 0.7277)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1225) (bps q 9 16 25 33 40 48 57) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0576) (looseness-sd . 0.036651580693701856) (looseness-variance . 0.0013433383673469388) (looses q 0.1169 0.0745 0.0482 0.0683 0.0759 0.0249 -0.0056 0.7277)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1225) (bps q 9 16 25 33 40 48 57) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0576) (looseness-sd . 0.036651580693701856) (looseness-variance . 0.0013433383673469388) (looses q 0.1169 0.0745 0.0482 0.0683 0.0759 0.0249 -0.0056 0.7277)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1225) (bps q 9 16 25 33 42 51 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0576) (looseness-sd . 0.036651580693701856) (looseness-variance . 0.0013433383673469388) (looses q 0.1169 0.0745 0.0482 0.0683 0.0759 0.0249 -0.0056 0.7277)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0891) (bps q 8 15 25 33 43 52 61) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0369) (looseness-sd . 0.03437851132344631) (looseness-variance . 0.0011818820408163264) (looses q 0.0669 0.0187 0.0222 -0.0025 0.0848 0.0727 -0.0043 0.6074)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1912) (bps q 6 11 20 28 37 46 53) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0845) (looseness-sd . 0.061088994967362566) (looseness-variance . 0.003731865306122449) (looses q 0.2128 0.0493 0.0419 0.1047 0.0472 0.1137 0.0216 0.3025)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1912) (bps q 6 11 20 28 37 46 53) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0845) (looseness-sd . 0.061088994967362566) (looseness-variance . 0.003731865306122449) (looses q 0.2128 0.0493 0.0419 0.1047 0.0472 0.1137 0.0216 0.3025)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0891) (bps q 8 15 25 33 43 52 61) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0369) (looseness-sd . 0.03437851132344631) (looseness-variance . 0.0011818820408163264) (looses q 0.0669 0.0187 0.0222 -0.0025 0.0848 0.0727 -0.0043 0.6074)) (fh-improved . 36) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0834) (bps q 8 17 28 38 48 58 68 78 89 98 109) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0488) (looseness-sd . 0.025166782514830146) (looseness-variance . 0.0006333669421487604) (looses q 0.0439 0.0253 0.0767 0.0453 0.0575 0.0167 0.0015 0.079 0.0546 0.0516 0.0849 0.6322)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.2192) (bps q 8 14 22 30 38 46 54 64 74 82 92) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0688) (looseness-sd . 0.06311345942293592) (looseness-variance . 0.003983308760330579) (looses q 0.0439 0.2137 -0.0055 0.0489 0.1063 0.1524 0.0192 0.0027 0.0455 0.0492 0.0803 0.4512)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1398) (bps q 7 14 22 29 37 46 54 63 73 82 92) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0666) (looseness-sd . 0.04840539209087222) (looseness-variance . 0.0023430819834710744) (looses q 0.1265 0.1311 -0.0055 0.1343 0.0919 0.0698 0.0192 0.0207 0.051 0.0136 0.0803 0.4512)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0834) (bps q 8 17 28 38 48 58 68 78 89 98 109) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0488) (looseness-sd . 0.025166782514830146) (looseness-variance . 0.0006333669421487604) (looses q 0.0439 0.0253 0.0767 0.0453 0.0575 0.0167 0.0015 0.079 0.0546 0.0516 0.0849 0.6322)) (fh-improved . 115) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 40) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0792) (bps q 10 19 29 36 47 58 67 78 86 94 103 112) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0566) (looseness-sd . 0.020881085274051782) (looseness-variance . 0.00043601972222222224) (looses q 0.0334 0.0965 0.0496 0.0463 0.0637 0.078 0.0393 0.0803 0.0555 0.0173 0.0573 0.0622 0.5242)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.2257) (bps q 5 13 21 28 34 44 50 57 64 72 79 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.077) (looseness-sd . 0.07743270689587328) (looseness-variance . 0.005995824097222223) (looses q 0.215 0.023 0.0226 0.1248 0.1729 0.0609 0.1563 -0.0107 0.0099 0.0101 0.1475 -0.0088 0.2998)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.2257) (bps q 5 12 19 27 34 43 50 57 64 72 79 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0779) (looseness-sd . 0.06885812053700631) (looseness-variance . 0.004741440763888889) (looses q 0.215 0.1353 0.0811 0.0483 0.0903 0.1436 0.0737 -0.0107 0.0099 0.0101 0.1475 -0.0088 0.2998)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1699) (bps q 10 19 29 37 47 59 68 79 87 94 103 112) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0581) (looseness-sd . 0.04814669424443039) (looseness-variance . 0.0023181041666666667) (looses q 0.0334 0.0965 0.0496 -0.0094 0.1194 -0.0052 0.0257 0.0828 0.0238 0.1605 0.0573 0.0622 0.5242)) (fh-improved . 191) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and never let him see him in one of those fields again.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0506) (bps q 8 19 29 39 50) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0225) (looseness-sd . 0.019272944767211884) (looseness-variance . 0.00037144639999999997) (looses q 0.0017 0.0291 -0.0003 0.0503 0.0319 0.4746)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0506) (bps q 7 15 24 33 44) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0225) (looseness-sd . 0.019272944767211884) (looseness-variance . 0.00037144639999999997) (looses q 0.0017 0.0291 -0.0003 0.0503 0.0319 0.4746)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0506) (bps q 7 15 24 33 44) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0225) (looseness-sd . 0.019272944767211884) (looseness-variance . 0.00037144639999999997) (looses q 0.0017 0.0291 -0.0003 0.0503 0.0319 0.4746)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0506) (bps q 8 19 29 39 50) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0225) (looseness-sd . 0.019272944767211884) (looseness-variance . 0.00037144639999999997) (looses q 0.0017 0.0291 -0.0003 0.0503 0.0319 0.4746)) (fh-improved . 22) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1158) (bps q 8 17 25 37 45 54 63 73 83) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0671) (looseness-sd . 0.030930962552827946) (looseness-variance . 0.0009567244444444446) (looses q 0.0648 0.0681 0.022 0.0772 0.0563 0.0684 0.0319 0.1378 0.0777 0.6187)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1158) (bps q 8 15 23 31 39 47 55 64 73) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0671) (looseness-sd . 0.030930962552827946) (looseness-variance . 0.0009567244444444446) (looses q 0.0648 0.0681 0.022 0.0772 0.0563 0.0684 0.0319 0.1378 0.0777 0.6187)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1158) (bps q 8 15 23 31 39 47 55 64 73) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0671) (looseness-sd . 0.030930962552827946) (looseness-variance . 0.0009567244444444446) (looses q 0.0648 0.0681 0.022 0.0772 0.0563 0.0684 0.0319 0.1378 0.0777 0.6187)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1158) (bps q 8 17 25 37 45 54 63 73 83) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0671) (looseness-sd . 0.030930962552827946) (looseness-variance . 0.0009567244444444446) (looses q 0.0648 0.0681 0.022 0.0772 0.0563 0.0684 0.0319 0.1378 0.0777 0.6187)) (fh-improved . 50) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them at each tread.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0795) (bps q 9 20 29 38 46 56 64 75 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0761) (looseness-sd . 0.028513193827107867) (looseness-variance . 0.0008130022222222222) (looses q 0.1155 0.036 0.0835 0.1079 0.0695 0.0572 0.0703 0.1086 0.0361 0.4101)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1275) (bps q 10 18 25 33 39 48 57 66 72) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0761) (looseness-sd . 0.03962073281926778) (looseness-variance . 0.0015698024691358026) (looses q 0.012 0.1395 0.0835 0.1079 0.0695 0.0572 0.0176 0.1055 0.0918 0.4101)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 1085) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0795) (bps q 9 18 25 33 39 48 56 65 72) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0761) (looseness-sd . 0.028513193827107867) (looseness-variance . 0.0008130022222222222) (looses q 0.1155 0.036 0.0835 0.1079 0.0695 0.0572 0.0703 0.1086 0.0361 0.4101)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1275) (bps q 10 20 29 38 46 56 65 76 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0761) (looseness-sd . 0.03962073281926778) (looseness-variance . 0.0015698024691358026) (looses q 0.012 0.1395 0.0835 0.1079 0.0695 0.0572 0.0176 0.1055 0.0918 0.4101)) (fh-improved . 58) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.1311) (bps q 7 18 26 36 46 57 66 75 85 95 106 117 127 137 148 158 168) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0528) (looseness-sd . 0.03152251241457977) (looseness-variance . 0.0009936687889273356) (looses q 0.0225 0.066 0.0647 0.0491 0.0245 0.0524 0.0474 0.0762 0.0249 0.0659 0.1093 0.1305 0.0275 0.0404 0.0626 -0.0006 0.0342 0.0411)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 1073) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.2122) (bps q 7 17 25 33 40 48 55 65 73 82 91 99 108 118 126 133 141 148) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0756) (looseness-sd . 0.060691871036214914) (looseness-variance . 0.0036835032098765427) (looses q 0.0225 0.066 0.0291 0.0848 0.2055 0.0131 0.0831 0.0436 0.1212 0.1716 0.0367 0.0385 0.0245 0.1096 0.1934 0.075 0.0495 -0.0067 0.5948)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.1783) (bps q 7 17 24 32 40 48 55 64 73 82 91 98 107 117 126 133 141 148) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0756) (looseness-sd . 0.043174020895058104) (looseness-variance . 0.0018639960802469139) (looses q 0.0225 0.066 0.0647 0.1037 0.151 0.0131 0.0831 0.0792 0.0856 0.1716 0.0367 0.082 0.0787 0.1144 0.0908 0.075 0.0495 -0.0067 0.5948)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.1311) (bps q 7 18 27 36 46 57 66 75 85 95 106 117 127 137 148 158 168) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0528) (looseness-sd . 0.032830007794161516) (looseness-variance . 0.001077809411764706) (looses q 0.0225 0.066 0.0291 0.0848 0.0245 0.0524 0.0474 0.0762 0.0249 0.0659 0.1093 0.1305 0.0275 0.0404 0.0626 -0.0006 0.0342 0.0411)) (fh-improved . 212) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0455) (bps q 11 23 32 44) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.020317603205102713) (looseness-variance . 0.00041280500000000003) (looses q 0.0048 0.0454 0.0503 0.0103 0.6049)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0685) (bps q 8 18 26 37) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0522) (looseness-sd . 0.026255332791644444) (looseness-variance . 0.0006893425000000001) (looses q 0.094 0.0544 0.0351 0.0255 0.5222)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0685) (bps q 8 18 26 37) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0522) (looseness-sd . 0.026255332791644444) (looseness-variance . 0.0006893425000000001) (looses q 0.094 0.0544 0.0351 0.0255 0.5222)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0455) (bps q 11 23 32 44) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.020317603205102713) (looseness-variance . 0.00041280500000000003) (looses q 0.0048 0.0454 0.0503 0.0103 0.6049)) (fh-improved . 21) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1881) (bps q 6 17 26) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0855) (looseness-sd . 0.0856666796368343) (looseness-variance . 0.0073387800000000005) (looses q 0.2064 0.0183 0.0318 0.7965)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1881) (bps q 6 16 25) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0855) (looseness-sd . 0.0856666796368343) (looseness-variance . 0.0073387800000000005) (looses q 0.2064 0.0183 0.0318 0.7965)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1881) (bps q 6 16 25) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0855) (looseness-sd . 0.0856666796368343) (looseness-variance . 0.0073387800000000005) (looses q 0.2064 0.0183 0.0318 0.7965)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1881) (bps q 6 17 26) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0855) (looseness-sd . 0.0856666796368343) (looseness-variance . 0.0073387800000000005) (looses q 0.2064 0.0183 0.0318 0.7965)) (fh-improved . 2) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of mischty.”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.0707) (bps q 9 19 28 37 46 54 64 73 82 92 101 112 122) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0542) (looseness-sd . 0.018294785366263062) (looseness-variance . 0.0003346991715976331) (looses q 0.0857 0.0505 0.0439 0.0339 0.0555 0.0522 0.0589 0.0585 0.0702 0.0701 0.015 0.036 0.0743 0.1361)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.2007) (bps q 7 16 25 33 43 50 59 68 76 85 92 100 111 120) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0752) (looseness-sd . 0.05027014420070011) (looseness-variance . 0.0025270873979591833) (looses q 0.0857 0.0505 0.0439 0.0339 -0.0048 0.1125 0.0589 0.0585 0.0702 0.0701 0.1959 0.0213 0.1445 0.1114 0.8146)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1063) (bps q 7 16 25 33 42 50 59 68 76 84 92 99 111 120) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0752) (looseness-sd . 0.03213672084283977) (looseness-variance . 0.001032768826530612) (looses q 0.0857 0.0505 0.0439 0.0339 0.0555 0.0522 0.0589 0.0585 0.0702 0.1258 0.1402 0.0569 0.1089 0.1114 0.8146)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1076) (bps q 9 19 28 37 47 55 65 74 83 93 101 112 122) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.053) (looseness-sd . 0.029609002309288965) (looseness-variance . 0.0008766930177514793) (looses q 0.0857 0.0505 0.0439 0.0339 -0.0048 0.0286 0.043 0.0298 0.0702 0.1028 0.0952 0.036 0.0743 0.1361)) (fh-improved . 80) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 6)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, and only secondarily from a moral one.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0505) (bps q 9 20 30) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0409) (looseness-sd . 0.020839545740410626) (looseness-variance . 0.0004342866666666667) (looses q 0.0452 0.0135 0.064 0.1634)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0505) (bps q 8 16 24) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0409) (looseness-sd . 0.020839545740410626) (looseness-variance . 0.0004342866666666667) (looses q 0.0452 0.0135 0.064 0.1634)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0505) (bps q 8 16 24) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0409) (looseness-sd . 0.020839545740410626) (looseness-variance . 0.0004342866666666667) (looses q 0.0452 0.0135 0.064 0.1634)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0505) (bps q 9 20 30) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0409) (looseness-sd . 0.020839545740410626) (looseness-variance . 0.0004342866666666667) (looses q 0.0452 0.0135 0.064 0.1634)) (fh-improved . 11) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy side of the family, and never will be!”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0951) (bps q 9 15 24 35 44 51 61) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0699) (looseness-sd . 0.02839141865179027) (looseness-variance . 0.0008060726530612245) (looses q 0.0941 0.0681 0.0652 0.0157 0.0534 0.1108 0.0821 0.8358)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1539) (bps q 9 15 23 31 38 45 54) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0721) (looseness-sd . 0.05218722965223878) (looseness-variance . 0.00272350693877551) (looses q 0.0941 0.0681 0.1515 0.0006 -0.0024 0.1108 0.0821 0.8358)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1556) (bps q 9 15 23 30 37 45 54) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0738) (looseness-sd . 0.05457384811390144) (looseness-variance . 0.0029783048979591838) (looses q 0.0941 0.0681 0.1515 0.1257 -0.0041 -0.0006 0.0821 0.8358)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0951) (bps q 9 15 24 35 44 51 61) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0699) (looseness-sd . 0.02839141865179027) (looseness-variance . 0.0008060726530612245) (looses q 0.0941 0.0681 0.0652 0.0157 0.0534 0.1108 0.0821 0.8358)) (fh-improved . 24) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.132) (bps q 9 18) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 18.773111111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0692) (looseness-sd . 0.066) (looseness-variance . 0.004356) (looses q 0.1352 0.0032 0.2464)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.132) (bps q 7 15) (piece-count . 21) (avg-piece-length . 24.136857142857142) (avg-looseness . 0.0692) (looseness-sd . 0.066) (looseness-variance . 0.004356) (looses q 0.1352 0.0032 0.2464)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.132) (bps q 7 15) (piece-count . 21) (avg-piece-length . 24.136857142857142) (avg-looseness . 0.0692) (looseness-sd . 0.066) (looseness-variance . 0.004356) (looses q 0.1352 0.0032 0.2464)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.132) (bps q 9 18) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 18.773111111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0692) (looseness-sd . 0.066) (looseness-variance . 0.004356) (looses q 0.1352 0.0032 0.2464)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.09) (bps q 9 19 30 40) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0626) (looseness-sd . 0.033755999466761465) (looseness-variance . 0.0011394675) (looses q 0.073 0.0436 0.022 0.112 0.803)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.09) (bps q 9 17 28 38) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0626) (looseness-sd . 0.033755999466761465) (looseness-variance . 0.0011394675) (looses q 0.073 0.0436 0.022 0.112 0.803)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.09) (bps q 9 17 28 38) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0626) (looseness-sd . 0.033755999466761465) (looseness-variance . 0.0011394675) (looses q 0.073 0.0436 0.022 0.112 0.803)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.09) (bps q 9 19 30 40) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0626) (looseness-sd . 0.033755999466761465) (looseness-variance . 0.0011394675) (looses q 0.073 0.0436 0.022 0.112 0.803)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor folk in Christminster with we.”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0397) (bps q 9 17 28) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0393) (looseness-sd . 0.016735789992308896) (looseness-variance . 0.0002800866666666666) (looses q 0.0452 0.0562 0.0165 0.2583)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0397) (bps q 8 16 24) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0393) (looseness-sd . 0.016735789992308896) (looseness-variance . 0.0002800866666666666) (looses q 0.0452 0.0562 0.0165 0.2583)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0397) (bps q 8 16 24) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0393) (looseness-sd . 0.016735789992308896) (looseness-variance . 0.0002800866666666666) (looses q 0.0452 0.0562 0.0165 0.2583)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0397) (bps q 9 17 28) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0393) (looseness-sd . 0.016735789992308896) (looseness-variance . 0.0002800866666666666) (looses q 0.0452 0.0562 0.0165 0.2583)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 60) (line-count . 23) (looseness-spread . 0.1121) (bps q 10 20 31 41 50 59 67 77 85 95 103 114 123 131 141 153 165 175 185 194 204 214) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0558) (looseness-sd . 0.029215961688011778) (looseness-variance . 0.0008535724173553721) (looses q -0.0025 0.0704 0.0652 0.0318 0.1096 0.0653 0.0618 0.1076 0.0756 0.0093 0.0338 0.0316 0.0595 0.0864 0.0466 0.0845 0.0637 0.0401 0.0361 0.0897 0.0395 0.0211 0.6405)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 23) (looseness-spread . 0.1927) (bps q 9 17 27 37 45 54 62 69 74 80 88 98 105 112 120 132 140 149 156 163 171 180) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0565) (looseness-sd . 0.0459509395222253) (looseness-variance . 0.002111488842975207) (looses q -0.0025 0.0704 0.0652 0.0318 0.0194 0.0253 0.1093 0.1902 0.0756 0.0093 0.0338 0.0316 0.1472 0.0141 0.0466 0.0488 0.0994 0.0401 0.0361 0.0897 0.0395 0.0211 0.6405)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 23) (looseness-spread . 0.1653) (bps q 9 17 27 37 44 53 61 69 74 80 88 97 105 112 120 131 140 149 156 163 171 180) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.057) (looseness-sd . 0.037673677155451966) (looseness-variance . 0.0014193059504132232) (looses q -0.0025 0.0704 0.0652 0.0318 0.1096 0.0653 0.0618 0.1076 0.0756 0.0093 0.0338 0.1628 0.0271 0.0141 0.0466 0.0845 0.0637 0.0401 0.0361 0.0897 0.0395 0.0211 0.6405)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 23) (looseness-spread . 0.1382) (bps q 10 20 31 41 51 60 68 78 86 96 104 115 124 132 143 155 167 177 186 196 206 216) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0482) (looseness-sd . 0.0433651305250491) (looseness-variance . 0.0018805345454545456) (looses q -0.0025 0.0704 0.0652 0.0318 0.0194 0.0253 0.1093 0.0441 0.0226 0.1078 0.0026 -0.0001 0.1295 0.0926 -0.0001 0.0405 0.0028 0.1101 0.0975 0.0229 -0.0087 0.0774 0.7913)) (fh-improved . 374) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 25)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1241) (bps q 10 18 28 37 48 57) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0669) (looseness-sd . 0.047019700362956614) (looseness-variance . 0.0022108522222222225) (looses q 0.1398 0.115 0.0251 0.074 0.032 0.0157 0.8444)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.246) (bps q 8 14 22 30 39 45) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.1095) (looseness-sd . 0.08104630363769426) (looseness-variance . 0.006568503333333333) (looses q 0.1398 0.115 0.0251 0.0097 0.1117 0.2557 0.6199)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0718) (bps q 8 14 21 29 38 45) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.1057) (looseness-sd . 0.02670790561279979) (looseness-variance . 0.0007133122222222225) (looses q 0.1398 0.115 0.1365 0.068 0.0866 0.0885 0.6199)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1301) (bps q 10 18 28 38 48 57) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0695) (looseness-sd . 0.053595739880454435) (looseness-variance . 0.002872503333333334) (looses q 0.1398 0.115 0.0251 0.0097 0.1117 0.0157 0.8444)) (fh-improved . 41) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.”") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.053) (bps q 9 18) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 19.480574074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0562) (looseness-sd . 0.026499999999999996) (looseness-variance . 0.0007022499999999999) (looses q 0.0827 0.0297 0.156)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1181) (bps q 6 14) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 22.8685) (avg-looseness . 0.1194) (looseness-sd . 0.059050000000000005) (looseness-variance . 0.0034869025000000002) (looses q 0.1784 0.0603 0.0563)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1181) (bps q 6 14) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 22.8685) (avg-looseness . 0.1194) (looseness-sd . 0.059050000000000005) (looseness-variance . 0.0034869025000000002) (looses q 0.1784 0.0603 0.0563)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.053) (bps q 9 18) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 19.480574074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0562) (looseness-sd . 0.026499999999999996) (looseness-variance . 0.0007022499999999999) (looses q 0.0827 0.0297 0.156)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak open down.") (measure . 210) (bh h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.0942) (bps q 9 18 27 36 45 53 63 73 84 94 104 114 124 133 144 152) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0486) (looseness-sd . 0.02499368592139823) (looseness-variance . 0.0006246843359375001) (looses q 0.0149 0.0638 0.079 0.0701 0.0966 0.0578 0.0416 0.0249 0.0665 0.0234 0.0024 0.0655 0.0278 0.0623 0.0482 0.0329 0.2875)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1955) (bps q 8 16 22 27 35 42 52 60 70 78 85 91 100 109 118 126) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0545) (looseness-sd . 0.04619767944320905) (looseness-variance . 0.0021342255859375) (looses q 0.0149 0.0638 0.2104 0.029 0.0217 0.0578 0.0416 0.0249 0.0665 0.0234 0.1033 0.0443 0.0703 0.0382 0.0212 0.0408 0.2239)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 50) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1175) (bps q 7 15 22 27 35 42 51 59 69 77 85 91 100 109 118 126) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0545) (looseness-sd . 0.0320210380062858) (looseness-variance . 0.0010253468749999999) (looses q 0.1231 0.068 0.0981 0.029 0.0217 0.0578 0.1045 0.036 0.0755 0.0375 0.0056 0.0443 0.0703 0.0382 0.0212 0.0408 0.2239)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1482) (bps q 9 18 27 37 46 54 64 73 84 94 104 114 124 133 144 152) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0493) (looseness-sd . 0.03496530423148067) (looseness-variance . 0.0012225724999999998) (looses q 0.0149 0.0638 0.079 -0.0125 0.0864 0.058 0.0345 0.1357 0.0665 0.0234 0.0024 0.0655 0.0278 0.0623 0.0482 0.0329 0.2875)) (fh-improved . 238) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in moving house.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 49) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1023) (bps q 12 21 31 44 57 66 76 87 100 112 124 136 146 159) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0441) (looseness-sd . 0.03145210888098324) (looseness-variance . 0.0009892351530612245) (looses q 0.0077 0.0399 0.0712 0.0066 0.0455 0.1084 0.0387 0.0522 0.0905 0.0256 0.0061 0.0297 0.0792 0.0166 0.28)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1816) (bps q 7 14 25 35 44 52 59 65 74 84 94 101 109 119) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0669) (looseness-sd . 0.05790190552361214) (looseness-variance . 0.003352630663265306) (looses q 0.1254 0.0189 -0.0128 0.0066 0.0455 0.1084 0.1356 0.1688 0.0331 0.1306 0.08 0.0894 0.0002 0.0068 0.0059)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 42) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1304) (bps q 7 14 24 34 43 50 58 65 74 84 94 101 109 119) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0676) (looseness-sd . 0.04070755395475872) (looseness-variance . 0.001657104948979592) (looses q 0.1254 0.0189 0.0973 0.0383 0.0911 0.0821 0.0566 0.0965 0.0331 0.1306 0.08 0.0894 0.0002 0.0068 0.0059)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1116) (bps q 12 21 32 44 57 66 76 88 101 114 125 136 146 159) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0458) (looseness-sd . 0.03811378841504658) (looseness-variance . 0.001452660867346939) (looses q 0.0077 0.0399 0.005 0.0729 0.0455 0.1084 0.0387 -0.0032 0.022 0.0073 0.1022 0.0995 0.0792 0.0166 0.28)) (fh-improved . 295) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 6)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and everything would be smooth again.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0957) (bps q 12 23 32 41) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0752) (looseness-sd . 0.04152725008954963) (looseness-variance . 0.0017245125) (looses q 0.0411 0.0273 0.1092 0.123 0.344)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0957) (bps q 11 21 30 38) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0752) (looseness-sd . 0.04152725008954963) (looseness-variance . 0.0017245125) (looses q 0.0411 0.0273 0.1092 0.123 0.344)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0957) (bps q 11 21 30 38) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0752) (looseness-sd . 0.04152725008954963) (looseness-variance . 0.0017245125) (looses q 0.0411 0.0273 0.1092 0.123 0.344)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1039) (bps q 12 23 32 42) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0457) (looseness-sd . 0.03880762650562387) (looseness-variance . 0.001506031875) (looses q 0.0411 0.0273 0.1092 0.0053 0.4491)) (fh-improved . 9) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary lodgings just at first.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0794) (bps q 9 21 32 44 56 67) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0521) (looseness-sd . 0.025558717799521076) (looseness-variance . 0.0006532480555555554) (looses q 0.0945 0.0151 0.0691 0.0474 0.0313 0.0551 0.0353)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.2272) (bps q 7 13 21 32 44 53 62) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0724) (looseness-sd . 0.06843902097368675) (looseness-variance . 0.004683899591836733) (looses q 0.2322 0.0696 0.0313 0.0487 0.0688 0.0515 0.005 0.8751)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.2272) (bps q 7 13 21 32 44 53 62) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0724) (looseness-sd . 0.06843902097368675) (looseness-variance . 0.004683899591836733) (looses q 0.2322 0.0696 0.0313 0.0487 0.0688 0.0515 0.005 0.8751)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1105) (bps q 10 22 33 44 56 67) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0521) (looseness-sd . 0.03584710200591147) (looseness-variance . 0.001285014722222222) (looses q 0.0175 0.0443 0.0363 0.128 0.0313 0.0551 0.0353)) (fh-improved . 62) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve found a place to settle in, sir.”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.052) (bps q 11 22 32 44 55) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0521) (looseness-sd . 0.021332172885104788) (looseness-variance . 0.0004550616) (looses q 0.072 0.0757 0.0588 0.0304 0.0237 0.2493)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0976) (bps q 9 18 28 39 49) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0548) (looseness-sd . 0.036016251887168935) (looseness-variance . 0.0012971704) (looses q 0.072 0.0757 0.0026 0.1002 0.0237 0.2493)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0976) (bps q 9 18 28 39 49) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0548) (looseness-sd . 0.036016251887168935) (looseness-variance . 0.0012971704) (looses q 0.072 0.0757 0.0026 0.1002 0.0237 0.2493)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0976) (bps q 11 22 33 44 55) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0548) (looseness-sd . 0.036016251887168935) (looseness-variance . 0.0012971704) (looses q 0.072 0.0757 0.0026 0.1002 0.0237 0.2493)) (fh-improved . 22) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy and the schoolmaster were left standing alone.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0857) (bps q 13 25 35 46 60 71) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0318) (looseness-sd . 0.02973189458402467) (looseness-variance . 0.0008839855555555556) (looses q 0.026 0.0143 0.0045 0.0475 0.0081 0.0902 0.8947)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0857) (bps q 10 20 29 40 48 56) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0318) (looseness-sd . 0.02973189458402467) (looseness-variance . 0.0008839855555555556) (looses q 0.026 0.0143 0.0045 0.0475 0.0081 0.0902 0.8947)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0857) (bps q 10 20 29 40 48 56) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0318) (looseness-sd . 0.02973189458402467) (looseness-variance . 0.0008839855555555556) (looses q 0.026 0.0143 0.0045 0.0475 0.0081 0.0902 0.8947)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0857) (bps q 13 25 35 46 60 71) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0318) (looseness-sd . 0.02973189458402467) (looseness-variance . 0.0008839855555555556) (looses q 0.026 0.0143 0.0045 0.0475 0.0081 0.0902 0.8947)) (fh-improved . 47) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, but one who had attended the night school only during the present teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0711) (bps q 11 24 35 44 56 66 79) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0304) (looseness-sd . 0.02479731716890983) (looseness-variance . 0.0006149069387755103) (looses q 0.004 0.0317 0.0712 0.06 0.0188 0.0001 0.0269 0.3994)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0711) (bps q 11 18 27 35 44 54 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0304) (looseness-sd . 0.02479731716890983) (looseness-variance . 0.0006149069387755103) (looses q 0.004 0.0317 0.0712 0.06 0.0188 0.0001 0.0269 0.3994)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0711) (bps q 11 18 27 35 44 54 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0304) (looseness-sd . 0.02479731716890983) (looseness-variance . 0.0006149069387755103) (looses q 0.004 0.0317 0.0712 0.06 0.0188 0.0001 0.0269 0.3994)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0711) (bps q 11 24 35 44 56 66 79) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0304) (looseness-sd . 0.02479731716890983) (looseness-variance . 0.0006149069387755103) (looses q 0.004 0.0317 0.0712 0.06 0.0188 0.0001 0.0269 0.3994)) (fh-improved . 64) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that he was sorry.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0198) (bps q 11 21) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0232) (looseness-sd . 0.009899999999999999) (looseness-variance . 9.800999999999998e-05) (looses q 0.0331 0.0133 0.1448)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0198) (bps q 10 19) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0232) (looseness-sd . 0.009899999999999999) (looseness-variance . 9.800999999999998e-05) (looses q 0.0331 0.0133 0.1448)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0198) (bps q 10 19) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0232) (looseness-sd . 0.009899999999999999) (looseness-variance . 9.800999999999998e-05) (looses q 0.0331 0.0133 0.1448)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0198) (bps q 11 21) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0232) (looseness-sd . 0.009899999999999999) (looseness-variance . 9.800999999999998e-05) (looses q 0.0331 0.0133 0.1448)) (fh-improved . 3) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0321) (bps q 9 19) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 21.266999999999996) (avg-looseness . 0.1038) (looseness-sd . 0.016050000000000002) (looseness-variance . 0.00025760250000000007) (looses q 0.1199 0.0878 0.6252)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0321) (bps q 9 16) (piece-count . 20) (avg-piece-length . 24.457049999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.1038) (looseness-sd . 0.016050000000000002) (looseness-variance . 0.00025760250000000007) (looses q 0.1199 0.0878 0.6252)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0321) (bps q 9 16) (piece-count . 20) (avg-piece-length . 24.457049999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.1038) (looseness-sd . 0.016050000000000002) (looseness-variance . 0.00025760250000000007) (looses q 0.1199 0.0878 0.6252)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0321) (bps q 9 19) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 21.266999999999996) (avg-looseness . 0.1038) (looseness-sd . 0.016050000000000002) (looseness-variance . 0.00025760250000000007) (looses q 0.1199 0.0878 0.6252)) (fh-improved . 3) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should have elsewhere.”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0566) (bps q 9 23 36 48 61 75 87 101 115) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.045) (looseness-sd . 0.021541043224734418) (looseness-variance . 0.00046401654320987653) (looses q 0.0585 0.0644 0.0658 0.0151 0.0528 0.0092 0.0221 0.0534 0.0638 0.5574)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.146) (bps q 8 19 28 38 47 59 68 78 89) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0494) (looseness-sd . 0.0475960341744541) (looseness-variance . 0.0022653824691358025) (looses q 0.0585 -0.0079 0.1381 0.0151 0.0528 0.0092 0.1186 0.0507 0.0099 0.531)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0627) (bps q 8 18 28 38 47 58 68 78 89) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0494) (looseness-sd . 0.02081298265298802) (looseness-variance . 0.0004331802469135802) (looses q 0.0585 0.0644 0.0658 0.0151 0.0528 0.0552 0.0726 0.0507 0.0099 0.531)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0919) (bps q 9 24 37 49 61 75 87 101 115) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0436) (looseness-sd . 0.02774016119653735) (looseness-variance . 0.0007695165432098766) (looses q 0.0585 -0.0079 0.0581 0.0513 0.084 0.0092 0.0221 0.0534 0.0638 0.5574)) (fh-improved . 124) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0496) (bps q 10 21 33 44 53 65) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0315) (looseness-sd . 0.018467847435174704) (looseness-variance . 0.0003410613888888889) (looses q 0.052 0.0412 0.0024 0.0468 0.0358 0.0107 0.6245)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.17) (bps q 8 15 23 30 40 48) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0939) (looseness-sd . 0.06661412929868725) (looseness-variance . 0.004437442222222222) (looses q 0.052 0.1652 0.1147 0.0181 0.0251 0.1881 0.2637)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1378) (bps q 7 15 23 30 39 48) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0939) (looseness-sd . 0.05016490860706871) (looseness-variance . 0.002516518055555556) (looses q 0.1559 0.0614 0.1147 0.0181 0.1496 0.0636 0.2637)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0496) (bps q 10 21 33 44 53 65) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0315) (looseness-sd . 0.018467847435174704) (looseness-variance . 0.0003410613888888889) (looses q 0.052 0.0412 0.0024 0.0468 0.0358 0.0107 0.6245)) (fh-improved . 62) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.036) (bps q 11 20 31) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0302) (looseness-sd . 0.015731143915459198) (looseness-variance . 0.0002474688888888889) (looses q 0.0082 0.0381 0.0442 0.6121)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.036) (bps q 9 17 26) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.0302) (looseness-sd . 0.015731143915459198) (looseness-variance . 0.0002474688888888889) (looses q 0.0082 0.0381 0.0442 0.6121)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.036) (bps q 9 17 26) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.0302) (looseness-sd . 0.015731143915459198) (looseness-variance . 0.0002474688888888889) (looses q 0.0082 0.0381 0.0442 0.6121)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.036) (bps q 11 20 31) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0302) (looseness-sd . 0.015731143915459198) (looseness-variance . 0.0002474688888888889) (looses q 0.0082 0.0381 0.0442 0.6121)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. “Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt me out for old acquaintance’ sake.”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0547) (bps q 12 23 35 46) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0442) (looseness-sd . 0.020235488627656114) (looseness-variance . 0.00040947499999999996) (looses q 0.054 0.0379 0.0151 0.0698 0.2458)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0547) (bps q 10 20 31 39) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0442) (looseness-sd . 0.020235488627656114) (looseness-variance . 0.00040947499999999996) (looses q 0.054 0.0379 0.0151 0.0698 0.2458)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0547) (bps q 10 20 31 39) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0442) (looseness-sd . 0.020235488627656114) (looseness-variance . 0.00040947499999999996) (looses q 0.054 0.0379 0.0151 0.0698 0.2458)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0547) (bps q 12 23 35 46) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0442) (looseness-sd . 0.020235488627656114) (looseness-variance . 0.00040947499999999996) (looses q 0.054 0.0379 0.0151 0.0698 0.2458)) (fh-improved . 16) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the hart’s-tongue fern.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1605) (bps q 10 21 31 41 51 62 74 84 96 107 117 129 140 155 167 179) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0619) (looseness-sd . 0.0430408994264467) (looseness-variance . 0.0018525190234375) (looses q 0.0224 0.0903 0.1759 0.0322 0.1139 0.1076 0.0154 0.0969 0.0196 0.0681 0.0497 0.0388 0.0519 0.0194 0.0529 0.0351 0.4964)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1711) (bps q 8 17 27 36 46 57 66 75 84 93 102 112 121 129 139 150) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0642) (looseness-sd . 0.047247198577667016) (looseness-variance . 0.0022322977734375) (looses q 0.0224 0.0903 0.1759 0.0322 0.0553 0.0248 0.1231 0.0089 0.1334 0.0993 0.0497 0.0388 0.0048 0.08 0.0529 0.0351 0.4964)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1711) (bps q 8 17 27 35 45 56 65 74 83 93 102 112 121 129 139 150) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0636) (looseness-sd . 0.04716804400226916) (looseness-variance . 0.002224824375) (looses q 0.0224 0.0903 0.1759 0.0892 0.1514 0.0267 0.0154 0.0969 0.0196 0.0681 0.0497 0.0388 0.0048 0.08 0.0529 0.0351 0.4964)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1711) (bps q 10 21 31 41 52 64 75 85 97 107 117 129 141 155 167 179) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0642) (looseness-sd . 0.047247198577667016) (looseness-variance . 0.0022322977734375) (looses q 0.0224 0.0903 0.1759 0.0322 0.0553 0.0248 0.1231 0.0089 0.1334 0.0993 0.0497 0.0388 0.0048 0.08 0.0529 0.0351 0.4964)) (fh-improved . 209) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 7)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place like this!”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0579) (bps q 13 25 37 46 57 70 82 92) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0418) (looseness-sd . 0.01830207894611976) (looseness-variance . 0.0003349660937500001) (looses q 0.0528 0.0383 0.0231 0.0505 0.04 0.0058 0.0603 0.0637 0.9099)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1312) (bps q 10 18 29 38 48 60 69 79) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0531) (looseness-sd . 0.03783597618338926) (looseness-variance . 0.0014315610937499995) (looses q 0.0528 0.0383 0.0231 0.0505 0.147 0.0424 0.055 0.0158 0.832)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0682) (bps q 9 17 28 37 48 60 69 79) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0544) (looseness-sd . 0.01856121207653207) (looseness-variance . 0.00034451859375) (looses q 0.084 0.0531 0.0683 0.055 0.0615 0.0424 0.055 0.0158 0.832)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1066) (bps q 13 25 37 46 57 70 83 92) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0418) (looseness-sd . 0.03114546515947386) (looseness-variance . 0.00097004) (looses q 0.0528 0.0383 0.0231 0.0505 0.04 0.0058 0.0115 0.1124 0.9099)) (fh-improved . 72) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry:") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0559) (bps q 12 24 35 45) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0231) (looseness-sd . 0.022681421361986996) (looseness-variance . 0.000514446875) (looses q 0.0056 0.0048 0.0214 0.0607 0.791)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1345) (bps q 12 21 30 39) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0548) (looseness-sd . 0.053859400293727745) (looseness-variance . 0.002900835) (looses q 0.0056 0.1401 0.0618 0.0117 0.6915)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0851) (bps q 11 21 30 39) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0524) (looseness-sd . 0.03118672594229795) (looseness-variance . 0.0009726118749999999) (looses q 0.0968 0.0392 0.0618 0.0117 0.6915)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0559) (bps q 12 24 35 45) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0231) (looseness-sd . 0.022681421361986996) (looseness-variance . 0.000514446875) (looses q 0.0056 0.0048 0.0214 0.0607 0.791)) (fh-improved . 14) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0722) (bps q 10 21 34 44 55 65 74 82 95) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0349) (looseness-sd . 0.0239403425205238) (looseness-variance . 0.00057314) (looses q 0.0237 -0.0079 -0.0016 0.0368 0.0643 0.0499 0.0494 0.0423 0.0575 0.467)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1225) (bps q 10 20 31 41 51 61 70 77 87) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.03777171519981324) (looseness-variance . 0.0014267024691358024) (looses q 0.0237 -0.0079 -0.0016 0.0368 0.0643 -0.0063 0.0469 0.1146 0.0575 0.467)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1271) (bps q 10 20 31 41 51 61 69 77 87) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.038737696573266575) (looseness-variance . 0.001500609135802469) (looses q 0.0237 -0.0079 -0.0016 0.0368 0.0643 -0.0063 0.1192 0.0423 0.0575 0.467)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1225) (bps q 10 21 34 44 55 66 75 82 95) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.03777171519981324) (looseness-variance . 0.0014267024691358024) (looses q 0.0237 -0.0079 -0.0016 0.0368 0.0643 -0.0063 0.0469 0.1146 0.0575 0.467)) (fh-improved . 34) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses warranted to last five years.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 23) (looseness-spread . 0.1049) (bps q 13 25 36 48 55 63 73 84 92 101 114 124 136 148 160 174 184 195 207 217 228 239) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0404) (looseness-sd . 0.02724806157333274) (looseness-variance . 0.0007424568595041322) (looses q 0.0219 0.0981 0.0594 0.0722 0.0299 0.0313 -0.0068 0.0373 0.0717 0.0372 0.0144 0.036 0.0114 0.0158 0.0638 0.0581 0.047 0.0849 0.0612 0.0156 0.0276 0.0 0.1607)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 23) (looseness-spread . 0.1766) (bps q 12 21 30 40 46 54 64 73 80 89 101 109 119 128 137 146 155 166 175 185 191 197) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.048) (looseness-sd . 0.04601611377846599) (looseness-variance . 0.0021174827272727277) (looses q 0.0219 0.0981 0.0594 0.0722 0.0299 0.0313 -0.0068 0.0373 0.0717 0.0372 0.0144 0.036 0.0114 0.1242 0.0687 0.1237 -0.0108 0.06 -0.0111 0.0156 0.1655 0.0062 0.0321)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 59) (line-count . 23) (looseness-spread . 0.1174) (bps q 12 21 30 40 46 54 63 72 79 88 99 108 116 127 135 145 154 165 173 183 191 197) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0485) (looseness-sd . 0.030866861861177673) (looseness-variance . 0.0009527631611570248) (looses q 0.0219 0.0981 0.0594 0.0722 0.0299 0.0313 0.11 0.0562 0.0354 0.0772 0.0718 0.0338 0.0471 0.0509 0.0116 0.0822 0.0214 0.0948 0.0303 0.0328 -0.0074 0.0062 0.0321)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 23) (looseness-spread . 0.1395) (bps q 13 25 36 49 56 63 73 84 92 101 114 124 136 148 160 174 185 195 207 217 228 239) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0398) (looseness-sd . 0.034565139128538265) (looseness-variance . 0.0011947488429752068) (looses q 0.0219 0.0981 0.0594 0.003 0.0369 0.08 -0.0068 0.0373 0.0717 0.0372 0.0144 0.036 0.0114 0.0158 0.0638 0.0581 -0.0007 0.1327 0.0612 0.0156 0.0276 0.0 0.1607)) (fh-improved . 401) (bu-improved . 20) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0841) (bps q 11 23 36 47 57 69 80) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0441) (looseness-sd . 0.02955773319855118) (looseness-variance . 0.0008736595918367347) (looses q 0.0931 0.009 0.0707 0.048 0.0099 0.0556 0.0227 0.1138)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1932) (bps q 10 18 26 34 41 50 60 71) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0922) (looseness-sd . 0.05435572072008612) (looseness-variance . 0.0029545443749999997) (looses q 0.0113 0.0908 0.2045 0.1292 0.0496 0.0817 0.1087 0.062 0.7225)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1158) (bps q 8 17 26 34 41 50 60 71) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0922) (looseness-sd . 0.03757236143430434) (looseness-variance . 0.00141168234375) (looses q 0.1654 0.0869 0.0544 0.1292 0.0496 0.0817 0.1087 0.062 0.7225)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0795) (bps q 12 23 37 48 57 69 80) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0422) (looseness-sd . 0.026714224598860574) (looseness-variance . 0.0007136497959183674) (looses q 0.0113 0.0908 0.0238 0.0262 0.0651 0.0556 0.0227 0.1138)) (fh-improved . 87) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0598) (bps q 13 25 33 44 54 67) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0287) (looseness-sd . 0.017662452327528652) (looseness-variance . 0.0003119622222222223) (looses q 0.0025 0.0221 0.0623 0.0262 0.0278 0.0311 0.6595)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1635) (bps q 10 18 27 35 43 51) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0511) (looseness-sd . 0.05616649851606877) (looseness-variance . 0.0031546755555555556) (looses q 0.0025 0.0221 0.0135 0.0749 0.0278 0.166 0.5382)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1051) (bps q 9 17 25 34 42 50) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0607) (looseness-sd . 0.03497017777097127) (looseness-variance . 0.0012229133333333333) (looses q 0.1265 0.0708 0.054 0.0214 0.0666 0.0249 0.4904)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0724) (bps q 13 25 34 44 54 67) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0286) (looseness-sd . 0.022737762276295644) (looseness-variance . 0.0005170058333333333) (looses q 0.0025 0.0221 0.0135 0.0749 0.0278 0.0311 0.6595)) (fh-improved . 53) (bu-improved . 7) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 58) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1562) (bps q 9 18 29 41 54 64 75 85 97 109 121 130 141 154 165 177 188 200 210) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0494) (looseness-sd . 0.035309474688390415) (looseness-variance . 0.0012467590027700833) (looses q 0.1653 0.0599 0.0455 0.0091 0.0461 0.0622 0.0355 0.0204 0.0327 0.0281 0.1136 0.0687 0.0356 0.0275 0.0504 0.0405 0.0362 0.0157 0.0462 0.7599)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1458) (bps q 10 19 27 35 44 52 61 70 80 90 100 110 119 132 143 154 163 173 182) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0639) (looseness-sd . 0.03630967530529051) (looseness-variance . 0.0013183925207756234) (looses q 0.056 0.0558 0.1365 0.0891 0.078 0.0907 0.0757 0.0392 0.028 0.158 0.0122 0.0193 0.0653 0.0483 0.0554 0.0515 0.044 0.0279 0.0834 0.4845)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1531) (bps q 9 18 27 35 44 52 61 70 80 90 100 110 119 132 143 154 163 173 182) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0651) (looseness-sd . 0.03990799807368577) (looseness-variance . 0.0015926483102493075) (looses q 0.1653 0.0599 0.0455 0.0891 0.078 0.0907 0.0757 0.0392 0.028 0.158 0.0122 0.0193 0.0653 0.0483 0.0554 0.0515 0.044 0.0279 0.0834 0.4845)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1431) (bps q 10 19 29 41 54 65 76 85 97 109 121 130 141 154 166 177 188 200 210) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.048) (looseness-sd . 0.0356703512909368) (looseness-variance . 0.0012723739612188368) (looses q 0.056 0.0558 0.1365 0.0091 0.0461 0.0145 0.0269 0.0723 0.0327 0.0281 0.1136 0.0687 0.0356 0.0275 -0.0066 0.0974 0.0362 0.0157 0.0462 0.7599)) (fh-improved . 308) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0407) (bps q 11 23 34 46 58) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0283) (looseness-sd . 0.016012694963684283) (looseness-variance . 0.0002564064) (looses q 0.018 0.0398 0.0398 0.0015 0.0422 0.8614)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0842) (bps q 9 19 28 37 48) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0283) (looseness-sd . 0.03029597993133742) (looseness-variance . 0.0009178463999999999) (looses q -0.0132 0.071 0.0398 0.0015 0.0422 0.8614)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0407) (bps q 8 19 28 37 48) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0283) (looseness-sd . 0.016012694963684283) (looseness-variance . 0.0002564064) (looses q 0.018 0.0398 0.0398 0.0015 0.0422 0.8614)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0842) (bps q 12 23 34 46 58) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0283) (looseness-sd . 0.03029597993133742) (looseness-variance . 0.0009178463999999999) (looses q -0.0132 0.071 0.0398 0.0015 0.0422 0.8614)) (fh-improved . 32) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little maid should know such changes!”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 50) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.0966) (bps q 10 22 34 44 57 69 80 90 101 112 123 134 143 154 165 176) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.051) (looseness-sd . 0.026934979580463765) (looseness-variance . 0.000725493125) (looses q 0.052 0.0724 0.0156 0.0924 0.0327 0.0328 0.0407 0.0325 0.0468 0.0178 0.0507 0.0585 0.1122 0.0409 0.0898 0.0278 0.8272)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1455) (bps q 9 17 26 34 47 58 69 79 89 98 109 120 129 139 151 160) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0518) (looseness-sd . 0.04068657977069958) (looseness-variance . 0.0016553977734375) (looses q 0.052 0.0724 0.1416 0.0111 0.0015 0.0328 0.0407 0.0325 0.0468 0.0178 0.0507 0.0585 0.1122 0.0409 -0.0039 0.1215 0.8272)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 49) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1365) (bps q 8 16 26 34 46 57 68 78 88 97 108 119 128 138 150 160) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0533) (looseness-sd . 0.034292299951118765) (looseness-variance . 0.0011759618359374999) (looses q 0.1243 0.0776 0.0685 0.0111 0.0529 0.0634 0.0743 0.07 -0.0122 0.0676 0.0208 0.0749 0.0735 0.0617 -0.0033 0.0278 0.8272)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1327) (bps q 10 22 34 45 58 69 80 90 101 112 123 134 144 155 166 176) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.05) (looseness-sd . 0.036252715415538185) (looseness-variance . 0.0013142593750000001) (looses q 0.052 0.0724 0.0156 0.019 -0.0037 0.129 0.0407 0.0325 0.0468 0.0178 0.0507 0.0585 0.0198 0.0375 0.0895 0.1215 0.8272)) (fh-improved . 185) (bu-improved . 13) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, and he descended into the midst of it.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0521) (bps q 12 24 36 46 59 71 82 93 103) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0391) (looseness-sd . 0.016337354002483668) (looseness-variance . 0.00026690913580246917) (looses q 0.0481 0.0123 0.0461 0.0225 0.0246 0.0644 0.03 0.0482 0.0553 0.143)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1078) (bps q 7 17 27 36 46 57 66 76 86) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0406) (looseness-sd . 0.02913684189399317) (looseness-variance . 0.0008489555555555555) (looses q 0.0481 0.0123 0.0461 0.0225 0.1052 -0.0026 0.03 0.0482 0.0553 0.143)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0817) (bps q 7 16 26 35 46 57 66 76 86) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0406) (looseness-sd . 0.02113617810038887) (looseness-variance . 0.000446738024691358) (looses q 0.0481 0.0791 0.0455 0.0285 0.0329 -0.0026 0.03 0.0482 0.0553 0.143)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0521) (bps q 12 24 36 46 59 71 82 93 103) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0391) (looseness-sd . 0.016337354002483668) (looseness-variance . 0.00026690913580246917) (looses q 0.0481 0.0123 0.0461 0.0225 0.0246 0.0644 0.03 0.0482 0.0553 0.143)) (fh-improved . 108) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0601) (bps q 11 23 34 46 58 70 80 91) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0198) (looseness-sd . 0.018583443572169286) (looseness-variance . 0.000345344375) (looses q -0.004 0.0085 0.0282 0.0561 0.0077 0.0351 0.024 0.003 0.1539)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0601) (bps q 10 22 31 40 50 62 71 81) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0198) (looseness-sd . 0.018583443572169286) (looseness-variance . 0.000345344375) (looses q -0.004 0.0085 0.0282 0.0561 0.0077 0.0351 0.024 0.003 0.1539)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0601) (bps q 10 22 31 40 50 62 71 81) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0198) (looseness-sd . 0.018583443572169286) (looseness-variance . 0.000345344375) (looses q -0.004 0.0085 0.0282 0.0561 0.0077 0.0351 0.024 0.003 0.1539)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0601) (bps q 11 23 34 46 58 70 80 91) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0198) (looseness-sd . 0.018583443572169286) (looseness-variance . 0.000345344375) (looses q -0.004 0.0085 0.0282 0.0561 0.0077 0.0351 0.024 0.003 0.1539)) (fh-improved . 46) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and in the other that of a granary good to feed in.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 69) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.0941) (bps q 10 22 34 47 57 67 76 86 96 107 118 128 139 149 160 170 182 193 203 215 226 237 249 262) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0525) (looseness-sd . 0.02755953372801426) (looseness-variance . 0.0007595278993055556) (looses q 0.0642 0.0524 0.071 0.0205 0.0221 0.0235 0.0903 0.089 0.1146 0.0314 0.0787 0.0335 0.0363 0.0917 0.0822 0.0307 0.022 0.0269 0.0754 0.0268 0.0626 0.0488 0.028 0.0381 0.5584)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.1796) (bps q 9 18 27 36 46 53 61 70 81 87 97 105 113 120 129 138 150 158 167 176 186 195 204 216) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0538) (looseness-sd . 0.04832367414258656) (looseness-variance . 0.0023351774826388884) (looses q 0.0642 0.0524 0.0144 -0.0092 0.0274 0.0235 0.0929 0.049 0.0986 0.0877 0.0097 0.0456 0.042 0.1354 0.0356 0.0093 -0.0101 0.1495 0.1695 0.0268 -0.0097 0.0899 0.0592 0.0381 0.5584)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 58) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.1257) (bps q 9 18 26 35 45 52 61 70 81 87 97 105 113 120 129 137 147 157 167 176 185 194 204 216) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0542) (looseness-sd . 0.03383262699385839) (looseness-variance . 0.0011446466493055555) (looses q 0.0642 0.0524 0.071 0.0205 0.0221 0.0235 0.0119 0.049 0.0986 0.0877 0.0097 0.0456 0.042 0.1354 0.0356 0.1111 0.115 0.0269 0.0754 0.0268 0.0626 0.0488 0.028 0.0381 0.5584)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 25) (looseness-spread . 0.1596) (bps q 10 22 35 48 58 68 77 87 98 108 120 130 140 150 162 172 185 194 204 217 228 239 252 264) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0467) (looseness-sd . 0.04383572533872597) (looseness-variance . 0.0019215708159722221) (looses q 0.0642 0.0524 0.0144 -0.0092 0.0274 0.0235 0.0929 0.049 0.0986 0.0877 0.0097 0.0456 0.042 0.1354 0.0356 0.0093 -0.0101 0.1495 0.0645 -0.0018 -0.0048 0.0781 -0.0046 0.0726 0.7145)) (fh-improved . 626) (bu-improved . 11) (bh-improved . 35)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0841) (bps q 10 21 33 42 53 65) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0301) (looseness-sd . 0.030651250654201153) (looseness-variance . 0.0009394991666666666) (looses q 0.0033 0.0399 -0.0032 0.0535 0.0059 0.0809 0.6366)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1452) (bps q 9 18 29 37 44 53) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0507) (looseness-sd . 0.048181900705094184) (looseness-variance . 0.0023214955555555554) (looses q 0.0033 0.0399 -0.0032 0.0535 0.142 0.0685 0.5264)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0745) (bps q 9 18 28 36 44 53) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0506) (looseness-sd . 0.02447568521342491) (looseness-variance . 0.0005990591666666668) (looses q 0.0033 0.0399 0.0778 0.0503 0.0641 0.0685 0.5264)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0841) (bps q 10 21 33 42 53 65) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0301) (looseness-sd . 0.030651250654201153) (looseness-variance . 0.0009394991666666666) (looses q 0.0033 0.0399 -0.0032 0.0535 0.0059 0.0809 0.6366)) (fh-improved . 34) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1006) (bps q 10 20 29 40 49 60 71 82 94) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0381) (looseness-sd . 0.03536577127361678) (looseness-variance . 0.0012507377777777778) (looses q 0.0714 0.0773 0.0438 0.0906 -0.0097 0.0485 0.0217 0.009 -0.01 0.6436)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.2224) (bps q 10 18 26 36 45 53 62 73 83) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0666) (looseness-sd . 0.06826936481936467) (looseness-variance . 0.004660706172839506) (looses q 0.0714 0.0773 0.0438 0.0906 -0.0097 0.2127 -0.0089 -0.0012 0.1236 0.4002)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1114) (bps q 10 18 26 36 44 53 62 72 83) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0666) (looseness-sd . 0.03348624925083263) (looseness-variance . 0.0011213288888888887) (looses q 0.0714 0.0773 0.0438 0.0906 0.1006 0.1025 -0.0089 0.0793 0.0431 0.4002)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1006) (bps q 10 20 29 40 49 60 71 82 94) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0381) (looseness-sd . 0.03536577127361678) (looseness-variance . 0.0012507377777777778) (looses q 0.0714 0.0773 0.0438 0.0906 -0.0097 0.0485 0.0217 0.009 -0.01 0.6436)) (fh-improved . 49) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a good meal!”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0258) (bps q 9 19 29 40) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0437) (looseness-sd . 0.009720178753500371) (looseness-variance . 9.448187500000002e-05) (looses q 0.0394 0.0341 0.0415 0.0599 0.7841)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0258) (bps q 8 17 27 37) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0437) (looseness-sd . 0.009720178753500371) (looseness-variance . 9.448187500000002e-05) (looses q 0.0394 0.0341 0.0415 0.0599 0.7841)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0258) (bps q 8 17 27 37) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0437) (looseness-sd . 0.009720178753500371) (looseness-variance . 9.448187500000002e-05) (looses q 0.0394 0.0341 0.0415 0.0599 0.7841)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0258) (bps q 9 19 29 40) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0437) (looseness-sd . 0.009720178753500371) (looseness-variance . 9.448187500000002e-05) (looses q 0.0394 0.0341 0.0415 0.0599 0.7841)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much resembled his own.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0656) (bps q 10 19 31 41) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0181) (looseness-sd . 0.025591441440450363) (looseness-variance . 0.0006549218750000001) (looses q 0.0585 -0.0004 -0.0071 0.0213 0.8502)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0656) (bps q 10 19 29 38) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0181) (looseness-sd . 0.025591441440450363) (looseness-variance . 0.0006549218750000001) (looses q 0.0585 -0.0004 -0.0071 0.0213 0.8502)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0656) (bps q 10 19 29 38) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0181) (looseness-sd . 0.025591441440450363) (looseness-variance . 0.0006549218750000001) (looses q 0.0585 -0.0004 -0.0071 0.0213 0.8502)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0656) (bps q 10 19 31 41) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0181) (looseness-sd . 0.025591441440450363) (looseness-variance . 0.0006549218750000001) (looses q 0.0585 -0.0004 -0.0071 0.0213 0.8502)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the clacker swinging in his hand.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 38) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.076) (bps q 10 21 33 44 55 64 74 85 97 107 118) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0443) (looseness-sd . 0.018519888795339338) (looseness-variance . 0.0003429862809917355) (looses q 0.0571 0.0425 0.0392 0.0799 0.0446 0.0449 0.0246 0.0419 0.0608 0.048 0.0039 0.8359)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1235) (bps q 10 18 28 38 47 55 63 71 81 89 96) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0814) (looseness-sd . 0.033691618007554075) (looseness-variance . 0.001135125123966942) (looses q 0.0571 0.1638 0.07 0.0438 0.0798 0.0635 0.086 0.0403 0.0917 0.0801 0.1191 0.4622)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1202) (bps q 9 18 28 38 47 55 63 71 81 89 96) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0814) (looseness-sd . 0.032752167299431) (looseness-variance . 0.0010727044628099174) (looses q 0.1605 0.0605 0.07 0.0438 0.0798 0.0635 0.086 0.0403 0.0917 0.0801 0.1191 0.4622)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.076) (bps q 10 21 33 44 55 64 74 85 97 107 118) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0443) (looseness-sd . 0.018519888795339338) (looseness-variance . 0.0003429862809917355) (looses q 0.0571 0.0425 0.0392 0.0799 0.0446 0.0449 0.0246 0.0419 0.0608 0.048 0.0039 0.8359)) (fh-improved . 112) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1111) (bps q 10 18 29 39 49 61) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0595) (looseness-sd . 0.03842009023067663) (looseness-variance . 0.0014761033333333335) (looses q 0.114 0.0383 0.1013 0.0029 0.0377 0.0628 0.6467)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1111) (bps q 10 18 29 37 46 56) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0595) (looseness-sd . 0.03842009023067663) (looseness-variance . 0.0014761033333333335) (looses q 0.114 0.0383 0.1013 0.0029 0.0377 0.0628 0.6467)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1111) (bps q 10 18 29 37 46 56) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0595) (looseness-sd . 0.03842009023067663) (looseness-variance . 0.0014761033333333335) (looses q 0.114 0.0383 0.1013 0.0029 0.0377 0.0628 0.6467)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1111) (bps q 10 18 29 39 49 61) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0595) (looseness-sd . 0.03842009023067663) (looseness-variance . 0.0014761033333333335) (looses q 0.114 0.0383 0.1013 0.0029 0.0377 0.0628 0.6467)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0763) (bps q 9 18 29 38 50 60) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.028213791938616752) (looseness-variance . 0.0007960180555555556) (looses q 0.0614 0.0093 0.0338 0.0671 0.0561 -0.0092 0.5428)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0763) (bps q 7 16 26 35 46 55) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.028213791938616752) (looseness-variance . 0.0007960180555555556) (looses q 0.0614 0.0093 0.0338 0.0671 0.0561 -0.0092 0.5428)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0763) (bps q 7 16 26 35 46 55) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.028213791938616752) (looseness-variance . 0.0007960180555555556) (looses q 0.0614 0.0093 0.0338 0.0671 0.0561 -0.0092 0.5428)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0763) (bps q 9 18 29 38 50 60) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.028213791938616752) (looseness-variance . 0.0007960180555555556) (looses q 0.0614 0.0093 0.0338 0.0671 0.0561 -0.0092 0.5428)) (fh-improved . 19) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.145) (bps q 8 19 31 43 53 66 77 89 100) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0591) (looseness-sd . 0.04624744504120747) (looseness-variance . 0.0021388261728395057) (looses q 0.1634 0.0206 0.0893 0.0184 0.0279 0.0379 0.0455 0.1008 0.0279 0.0148)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.145) (bps q 8 15 25 34 44 54 65 77 86) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0606) (looseness-sd . 0.044867272022772145) (looseness-variance . 0.002013072098765432) (looses q 0.1634 0.0952 0.0283 0.0184 0.0279 0.0379 0.0455 0.0353 0.0934 0.0148)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.145) (bps q 8 15 25 34 44 54 65 76 86) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0606) (looseness-sd . 0.04605196206326657) (looseness-variance . 0.002120783209876543) (looses q 0.1634 0.0952 0.0283 0.0184 0.0279 0.0379 0.0455 0.1008 0.0279 0.0148)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.145) (bps q 8 19 31 43 53 66 77 90 100) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0591) (looseness-sd . 0.04506789391272233) (looseness-variance . 0.002031115061728395) (looses q 0.1634 0.0206 0.0893 0.0184 0.0279 0.0379 0.0455 0.0353 0.0934 0.0148)) (fh-improved . 79) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 38) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1208) (bps q 12 21 32 41 54 65 78 87 96 106) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0538) (looseness-sd . 0.03154775586313549) (looseness-variance . 0.0009952608999999999) (looses q 0.0291 0.0666 0.1209 0.0677 0.0552 0.0759 0.0001 0.0498 0.0208 0.0518 0.1104)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1443) (bps q 7 16 25 32 42 50 58 66 74 82 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0784) (looseness-sd . 0.04881319256712309) (looseness-variance . 0.002382727768595041) (looses q 0.0291 0.0666 0.1209 0.151 0.0357 0.1398 0.0669 0.0067 0.1402 0.0361 0.069 0.8331)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0986) (bps q 6 15 24 32 41 50 58 65 74 82 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0784) (looseness-sd . 0.024987464625882954) (looseness-variance . 0.0006243733884297519) (looses q 0.1014 0.1347 0.0528 0.0787 0.0982 0.0772 0.0669 0.079 0.0679 0.0361 0.069 0.8331)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.108) (bps q 12 21 32 42 55 66 79 88 96 106) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.055) (looseness-sd . 0.03455700941921913) (looseness-variance . 0.0011941869) (looses q 0.0291 0.0666 0.1209 0.0157 0.0349 0.0529 0.0129 0.0548 0.1103 0.0518 0.1104)) (fh-improved . 145) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and never let him see him in one of those fields again.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0359) (bps q 9 22 34 45) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0184) (looseness-sd . 0.014136013405483174) (looseness-variance . 0.000199826875) (looses q 0.0364 0.0271 0.0005 0.0095 0.1899)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0359) (bps q 8 18 28 39) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0184) (looseness-sd . 0.014136013405483174) (looseness-variance . 0.000199826875) (looses q 0.0364 0.0271 0.0005 0.0095 0.1899)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0359) (bps q 8 18 28 39) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0184) (looseness-sd . 0.014136013405483174) (looseness-variance . 0.000199826875) (looses q 0.0364 0.0271 0.0005 0.0095 0.1899)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0359) (bps q 9 22 34 45) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0184) (looseness-sd . 0.014136013405483174) (looseness-variance . 0.000199826875) (looses q 0.0364 0.0271 0.0005 0.0095 0.1899)) (fh-improved . 17) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0541) (bps q 9 19 30 41 51 61 73 84) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.065) (looseness-sd . 0.017658315144712985) (looseness-variance . 0.00031181609375000003) (looses q 0.0677 0.0462 0.0583 0.0759 0.0946 0.0405 0.053 0.0837 0.7772)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1803) (bps q 10 18 27 36 45 54 64 74) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0682) (looseness-sd . 0.048280586160484834) (looseness-variance . 0.0023310149999999996) (looses q -0.0046 0.0322 0.0723 0.0654 0.0679 0.1757 0.053 0.0837 0.7772)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1826) (bps q 9 17 26 36 45 54 64 74) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0682) (looseness-sd . 0.0477623020801971) (looseness-variance . 0.0022812375) (looses q 0.0677 0.0462 0.0583 -0.0069 0.0679 0.1757 0.053 0.0837 0.7772)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1132) (bps q 10 20 31 42 52 62 73 84) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0665) (looseness-sd . 0.03525756789329065) (looseness-variance . 0.00124309609375) (looses q -0.0046 0.0322 0.0723 0.0654 0.0679 0.1066 0.1086 0.0837 0.7772)) (fh-improved . 46) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 6)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them at each tread.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0838) (bps q 11 23 33 44 55 65 78 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0355) (looseness-sd . 0.02613510271167879) (looseness-variance . 0.0006830435937499999) (looses q 0.0867 0.0272 0.0367 0.0544 0.0499 0.0217 0.0029 0.0046 0.899)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.2037) (bps q 11 21 30 37 46 56 67 76) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0495) (looseness-sd . 0.06371532390249617) (looseness-variance . 0.004059642499999999) (looses q 0.0867 -0.004 0.0367 0.1991 0.0228 -0.0046 0.0046 0.0551 0.8007)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1148) (bps q 11 19 28 37 46 56 67 76) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0495) (looseness-sd . 0.03866723419123742) (looseness-variance . 0.0014951550000000002) (looses q 0.0867 0.0826 0.1102 0.039 0.0228 -0.0046 0.0046 0.0551 0.8007)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0907) (bps q 11 24 34 44 55 65 78 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0355) (looseness-sd . 0.03374260798678727) (looseness-variance . 0.00113856359375) (looses q 0.0867 -0.004 0.0367 0.0856 0.0499 0.0217 0.0029 0.0046 0.899)) (fh-improved . 58) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 49) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0917) (bps q 9 21 31 42 54 65 76 88 101 114 126 138 150 161 171) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0368) (looseness-sd . 0.02773101272342333) (looseness-variance . 0.0007690090666666666) (looses q -0.0053 0.0499 0.0596 0.0676 0.0127 0.0242 0.0565 0.0159 0.0081 0.0147 0.0596 -0.0034 0.0435 0.0614 0.0864 0.4856)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1751) (bps q 9 19 29 38 47 55 66 77 87 96 106 118 127 137 146) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0554) (looseness-sd . 0.04072874169428759) (looseness-variance . 0.0016588304000000004) (looses q -0.0053 0.0499 0.0596 0.0676 0.1014 0.042 0.05 -0.0101 0.0459 0.165 0.0178 0.063 0.047 0.054 0.0826 0.2333)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1294) (bps q 9 19 29 38 47 55 66 76 86 96 106 118 127 137 146) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0554) (looseness-sd . 0.03279940649869547) (looseness-variance . 0.0010758010666666667) (looses q -0.0053 0.0499 0.0596 0.0676 0.1014 0.042 0.05 0.0726 0.1241 0.0041 0.0178 0.063 0.047 0.054 0.0826 0.2333)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0917) (bps q 9 21 31 42 55 65 77 88 101 114 126 138 150 161 171) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0368) (looseness-sd . 0.02819328052332092) (looseness-variance . 0.0007948610666666667) (looses q -0.0053 0.0499 0.0596 0.0676 0.0005 0.0364 0.0184 0.054 0.0081 0.0147 0.0596 -0.0034 0.0435 0.0614 0.0864 0.4856)) (fh-improved . 192) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0523) (bps q 13 26 37) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0268) (looseness-sd . 0.023851252005339725) (looseness-variance . 0.0005688822222222222) (looses q 0.0418 -0.0069 0.0454 0.174)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0523) (bps q 10 21 32) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0268) (looseness-sd . 0.023851252005339725) (looseness-variance . 0.0005688822222222222) (looses q 0.0418 -0.0069 0.0454 0.174)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0523) (bps q 10 21 32) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0268) (looseness-sd . 0.023851252005339725) (looseness-variance . 0.0005688822222222222) (looses q 0.0418 -0.0069 0.0454 0.174)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0523) (bps q 13 26 37) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0268) (looseness-sd . 0.023851252005339725) (looseness-variance . 0.0005688822222222222) (looses q 0.0418 -0.0069 0.0454 0.174)) (fh-improved . 13) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0193) (bps q 9 20) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0494) (looseness-sd . 0.009649999999999999) (looseness-variance . 9.312249999999997e-05) (looses q 0.059 0.0397 0.3121)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0193) (bps q 9 19) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0494) (looseness-sd . 0.009649999999999999) (looseness-variance . 9.312249999999997e-05) (looses q 0.059 0.0397 0.3121)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0193) (bps q 9 19) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0494) (looseness-sd . 0.009649999999999999) (looseness-variance . 9.312249999999997e-05) (looses q 0.059 0.0397 0.3121)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0193) (bps q 9 20) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0494) (looseness-sd . 0.009649999999999999) (looseness-variance . 9.312249999999997e-05) (looses q 0.059 0.0397 0.3121)) (fh-improved . 1) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of mischty.”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0836) (bps q 10 21 31 42 50 62 73 84 95 106 119 130) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0543) (looseness-sd . 0.02249764648184832) (looseness-variance . 0.0005061440972222222) (looses q 0.0965 0.0591 0.0503 0.0397 0.053 0.0129 0.0671 0.0184 0.0626 0.0458 0.0768 0.0693 0.8378)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1351) (bps q 9 19 28 38 47 57 68 77 88 96 109 120) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0554) (looseness-sd . 0.035664644607790494) (looseness-variance . 0.0012719668749999998) (looses q 0.021 0.043 0.142 0.0397 0.0117 0.0542 0.0671 0.0876 0.0069 0.0458 0.0768 0.0693 0.8378)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0896) (bps q 8 18 28 38 46 57 67 77 88 96 109 120) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0554) (looseness-sd . 0.0264092826167871) (looseness-variance . 0.0006974502083333333) (looses q 0.0965 0.0591 0.0503 0.0397 0.053 0.0129 0.0935 0.0613 0.0069 0.0458 0.0768 0.0693 0.8378)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1169) (bps q 11 22 32 42 51 62 73 84 95 106 119 130) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0532) (looseness-sd . 0.030414506772627796) (looseness-variance . 0.0009250422222222221) (looses q 0.021 0.043 0.0395 0.1286 0.0117 0.0542 0.0671 0.0184 0.0626 0.0458 0.0768 0.0693 0.8378)) (fh-improved . 71) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, and only secondarily from a moral one.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0151) (bps q 11 23 36) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0184) (looseness-sd . 0.006467525716136651) (looseness-variance . 4.182888888888889e-05) (looses q 0.0122 0.0273 0.0156 0.6714)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1783) (bps q 9 18 26) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0993) (looseness-sd . 0.07284838135927707) (looseness-variance . 0.0053068866666666666) (looses q 0.0122 0.0952 0.1905 0.4421)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1362) (bps q 8 17 26) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0993) (looseness-sd . 0.055747605828013407) (looseness-variance . 0.0031077955555555547) (looses q 0.1646 0.0284 0.105 0.4421)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0151) (bps q 11 23 36) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0184) (looseness-sd . 0.006467525716136651) (looseness-variance . 4.182888888888889e-05) (looses q 0.0122 0.0273 0.0156 0.6714)) (fh-improved . 17) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy side of the family, and never will be!”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.109) (bps q 10 18 29 40 48 60) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.07) (looseness-sd . 0.04087478508268338) (looseness-variance . 0.0016707480555555555) (looses q 0.1033 -0.0057 0.0901 0.0933 0.103 0.0361 0.7389)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.214) (bps q 10 18 28 34 42 53) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0724) (looseness-sd . 0.07315549079415253) (looseness-variance . 0.0053517258333333345) (looses q 0.1033 -0.0057 0.0901 0.2083 0.002 0.0361 0.7389)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1395) (bps q 10 17 26 34 42 53) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0723) (looseness-sd . 0.05315626857567119) (looseness-variance . 0.0028255888888888887) (looses q 0.1033 0.1252 0.1415 0.0259 0.002 0.0361 0.7389)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.109) (bps q 10 18 29 40 48 60) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.07) (looseness-sd . 0.04087478508268338) (looseness-variance . 0.0016707480555555555) (looses q 0.1033 -0.0057 0.0901 0.0933 0.103 0.0361 0.7389)) (fh-improved . 20) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0457) (bps q 10 20) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 18.773111111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.11) (looseness-sd . 0.022849999999999995) (looseness-variance . 0.0005221224999999998) (looses q 0.1329 0.0872 0.5018)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0457) (bps q 8 17) (piece-count . 21) (avg-piece-length . 24.136857142857142) (avg-looseness . 0.11) (looseness-sd . 0.022849999999999995) (looseness-variance . 0.0005221224999999998) (looses q 0.1329 0.0872 0.5018)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0457) (bps q 8 17) (piece-count . 21) (avg-piece-length . 24.136857142857142) (avg-looseness . 0.11) (looseness-sd . 0.022849999999999995) (looseness-variance . 0.0005221224999999998) (looses q 0.1329 0.0872 0.5018)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0457) (bps q 10 20) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 18.773111111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.11) (looseness-sd . 0.022849999999999995) (looseness-variance . 0.0005221224999999998) (looses q 0.1329 0.0872 0.5018)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0126) (bps q 10 23 34) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0558) (looseness-sd . 0.005322488974989886) (looseness-variance . 2.832888888888889e-05) (looses q 0.0539 0.0631 0.0505 0.3537)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1747) (bps q 9 19 31) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0766) (looseness-sd . 0.07955100390455311) (looseness-variance . 0.006328362222222223) (looses q 0.1889 0.0142 0.0268 0.305)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1747) (bps q 9 19 31) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0766) (looseness-sd . 0.07955100390455311) (looseness-variance . 0.006328362222222223) (looses q 0.1889 0.0142 0.0268 0.305)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0126) (bps q 10 23 34) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0558) (looseness-sd . 0.005322488974989886) (looseness-variance . 2.832888888888889e-05) (looses q 0.0539 0.0631 0.0505 0.3537)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor folk in Christminster with we.”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.024) (bps q 10 19 31) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0828) (looseness-sd . 0.009830677607480692) (looseness-variance . 9.66422222222223e-05) (looses q 0.0839 0.0942 0.0702 0.558)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1714) (bps q 9 17 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.087) (looseness-sd . 0.07000734882059803) (looseness-variance . 0.004901028888888889) (looses q 0.0839 0.1742 0.0028 0.558)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1617) (bps q 8 17 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.087) (looseness-sd . 0.06618017494352486) (looseness-variance . 0.004379815555555556) (looses q 0.1645 0.0936 0.0028 0.558)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.024) (bps q 10 19 31) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0828) (looseness-sd . 0.009830677607480692) (looseness-variance . 9.66422222222223e-05) (looses q 0.0839 0.0942 0.0702 0.558)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 59) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.0991) (bps q 11 22 35 45 56 66 77 86 97 107 118 128 139 154 167 179 189 201 213) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0467) (looseness-sd . 0.030883772823648258) (looseness-variance . 0.0009538074238227148) (looses q 0.0359 0.0346 0.0939 0.036 0.0995 0.0752 0.056 0.0305 0.0855 0.0266 0.0373 0.0493 0.0999 0.0031 0.0164 0.0515 0.0512 0.0047 0.0008 0.5617)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1632) (bps q 9 18 30 39 50 60 69 75 82 91 101 108 118 130 141 151 158 166 176) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0637) (looseness-sd . 0.046501419273607486) (looseness-variance . 0.002162381994459834) (looses q 0.1228 0.0701 0.0858 0.0362 0.0184 0.0752 0.056 0.0305 0.0855 0.106 0.0373 0.1601 -0.0031 0.0067 0.0198 0.1408 0.0997 0.0019 0.0608 0.2995)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 55) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1219) (bps q 9 18 30 39 49 60 69 75 82 91 100 108 117 128 139 150 158 166 176) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0643) (looseness-sd . 0.03427598918927136) (looseness-variance . 0.0011748434349030472) (looses q 0.1228 0.0701 0.0858 0.0362 0.059 0.025 0.056 0.0305 0.0855 0.106 0.1179 0.0795 0.0882 0.0914 0.0529 0.0009 0.051 0.0019 0.0608 0.2995)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1487) (bps q 11 22 36 46 57 66 77 86 97 107 118 128 139 154 167 179 190 201 213) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0462) (looseness-sd . 0.036661140522039566) (looseness-variance . 0.0013440392243767314) (looses q 0.0359 0.0346 0.0236 0.034 0.0925 0.1448 0.056 0.0305 0.0855 0.0266 0.0373 0.0493 0.0999 0.0031 0.0164 0.0515 -0.0039 0.0597 0.0008 0.5617)) (fh-improved . 322) (bu-improved . 8) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0605) (bps q 11 22 33 44 55) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0582) (looseness-sd . 0.02113474863820244) (looseness-variance . 0.00044667759999999997) (looses q 0.0954 0.0349 0.0659 0.0503 0.0446 0.6674)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.2347) (bps q 8 15 25 34 44) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.1118) (looseness-sd . 0.08805468755267944) (looseness-variance . 0.0077536279999999985) (looses q 0.2473 0.0176 0.1437 0.0126 0.1378 0.4131)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.2347) (bps q 8 15 25 34 44) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.1118) (looseness-sd . 0.08805468755267944) (looseness-variance . 0.0077536279999999985) (looses q 0.2473 0.0176 0.1437 0.0126 0.1378 0.4131)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0605) (bps q 11 22 33 44 55) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0582) (looseness-sd . 0.02113474863820244) (looseness-variance . 0.00044667759999999997) (looses q 0.0954 0.0349 0.0659 0.0503 0.0446 0.6674)) (fh-improved . 39) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.”") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.092) (bps q 10 20) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 19.480574074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0879) (looseness-sd . 0.046) (looseness-variance . 0.002116) (looses q 0.1339 0.0419 0.4594)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.092) (bps q 7 17) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 22.8685) (avg-looseness . 0.0879) (looseness-sd . 0.046) (looseness-variance . 0.002116) (looses q 0.1339 0.0419 0.4594)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.092) (bps q 7 17) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 22.8685) (avg-looseness . 0.0879) (looseness-sd . 0.046) (looseness-variance . 0.002116) (looses q 0.1339 0.0419 0.4594)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.092) (bps q 10 20) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 19.480574074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0879) (looseness-sd . 0.046) (looseness-variance . 0.002116) (looses q 0.1339 0.0419 0.4594)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak open down.") (measure . 240) (bh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1323) (bps q 10 20 30 41 51 61 73 85 96 108 118 129 142 151) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.03530515947725326) (looseness-variance . 0.0012464542857142855) (looses q 0.0281 0.144 0.0122 0.0258 0.0405 0.0749 0.043 0.0719 0.0516 0.0366 0.0998 0.032 0.0117 0.0293 0.3209)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1548) (bps q 8 18 24 32 39 49 59 70 79 87 96 106 117 126) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0537) (looseness-sd . 0.051613890809449704) (looseness-variance . 0.0026639937244897966) (looses q 0.1381 0.0476 0.0122 0.1128 0.1451 0.0142 -0.0097 0.1185 0.0731 -0.0001 0.0275 0.032 0.0117 0.0293 0.3209)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1548) (bps q 8 18 24 32 39 49 59 70 79 87 96 106 117 126) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0537) (looseness-sd . 0.051613890809449704) (looseness-variance . 0.0026639937244897966) (looses q 0.1381 0.0476 0.0122 0.1128 0.1451 0.0142 -0.0097 0.1185 0.0731 -0.0001 0.0275 0.032 0.0117 0.0293 0.3209)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1117) (bps q 10 21 30 41 51 62 73 86 97 108 119 130 143 152) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0444) (looseness-sd . 0.03571941106080295) (looseness-variance . 0.0012758763265306122) (looses q 0.0281 0.0748 0.0679 0.0258 0.0405 0.0261 0.0917 0.0157 0.047 0.0974 0.0086 -0.0001 -0.0066 0.1051 0.3766)) (fh-improved . 213) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 8)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in moving house.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0668) (bps q 13 24 36 50 63 74 87 102 117 129 141 155) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0314) (looseness-sd . 0.021025890125166057) (looseness-variance . 0.00044208805555555553) (looses q 0.0364 -0.0005 0.0657 0.053 0.0284 0.0298 0.0191 -0.0011 0.0053 0.0476 0.0451 0.0478 0.1163)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0974) (bps q 8 18 31 40 49 58 66 78 90 99 108 119) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0314) (looseness-sd . 0.025747195100739723) (looseness-variance . 0.0006629180555555556) (looses q 0.0364 -0.0005 0.0224 0.0963 0.0284 0.0298 0.0191 -0.0011 0.0053 0.0476 0.0451 0.0478 0.1163)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0668) (bps q 8 18 30 40 49 58 66 78 90 99 108 119) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0314) (looseness-sd . 0.021025890125166057) (looseness-variance . 0.00044208805555555553) (looses q 0.0364 -0.0005 0.0657 0.053 0.0284 0.0298 0.0191 -0.0011 0.0053 0.0476 0.0451 0.0478 0.1163)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1074) (bps q 13 24 37 51 63 74 87 102 117 129 141 155) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0304) (looseness-sd . 0.028750115941795204) (looseness-variance . 0.0008265691666666667) (looses q 0.0364 -0.0005 0.0224 0.0072 0.1063 0.0298 0.0191 -0.0011 0.0053 0.0476 0.0451 0.0478 0.1163)) (fh-improved . 229) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and everything would be smooth again.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0357) (bps q 13 25 35 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0547) (looseness-sd . 0.014611125897753397) (looseness-variance . 0.00021348500000000002) (looses q 0.0658 0.0573 0.0301 0.0656 0.9085)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0839) (bps q 12 24 33 42) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0547) (looseness-sd . 0.03162841878753979) (looseness-variance . 0.001000356875) (looses q 0.0658 0.0018 0.0857 0.0656 0.9085)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0357) (bps q 12 23 33 42) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0547) (looseness-sd . 0.014611125897753397) (looseness-variance . 0.00021348500000000002) (looses q 0.0658 0.0573 0.0301 0.0656 0.9085)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0814) (bps q 14 26 35 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0517) (looseness-sd . 0.029984245863453027) (looseness-variance . 0.0008990550000000001) (looses q 0.0043 0.0512 0.0857 0.0656 0.9085)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary lodgings just at first.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0791) (bps q 12 25 36 51 64 78) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0262) (looseness-sd . 0.03288523816074454) (looseness-variance . 0.001081438888888889) (looses q 0.0033 0.0752 0.0054 -0.0039 0.0695 0.0075 0.9299)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0859) (bps q 8 17 26 41 53 63) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0297) (looseness-sd . 0.034754376223242255) (looseness-variance . 0.0012078666666666667) (looses q 0.082 0.0086 0.0054 -0.0039 0.0115 0.0746 0.9299)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0859) (bps q 8 17 26 41 52 63) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0282) (looseness-sd . 0.03406618150339457) (looseness-variance . 0.0011605047222222223) (looses q 0.082 0.0086 0.0054 -0.0039 0.0695 0.0075 0.9299)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0791) (bps q 12 25 36 51 65 78) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.03368854487144785) (looseness-variance . 0.0011349180555555555) (looses q 0.0033 0.0752 0.0054 -0.0039 0.0115 0.0746 0.9299)) (fh-improved . 59) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve found a place to settle in, sir.”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0759) (bps q 13 26 39 51 64) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0349) (looseness-sd . 0.025691679586979127) (looseness-variance . 0.0006600624) (looses q 0.0212 -0.0056 0.04 0.0488 0.0703 0.9481)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0759) (bps q 10 22 34 46 57) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0349) (looseness-sd . 0.025691679586979127) (looseness-variance . 0.0006600624) (looses q 0.0212 -0.0056 0.04 0.0488 0.0703 0.9481)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0759) (bps q 10 22 34 46 57) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0349) (looseness-sd . 0.025691679586979127) (looseness-variance . 0.0006600624) (looses q 0.0212 -0.0056 0.04 0.0488 0.0703 0.9481)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0759) (bps q 13 26 39 51 64) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0349) (looseness-sd . 0.025691679586979127) (looseness-variance . 0.0006600624) (looses q 0.0212 -0.0056 0.04 0.0488 0.0703 0.9481)) (fh-improved . 24) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy and the schoolmaster were left standing alone.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0317) (bps q 14 27 39 53 67) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.010473203903295304) (looseness-variance . 0.000109688) (looses q 0.0326 0.0441 0.0234 0.026 0.0124 0.5945)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0317) (bps q 11 22 33 43 53) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.010473203903295304) (looseness-variance . 0.000109688) (looses q 0.0326 0.0441 0.0234 0.026 0.0124 0.5945)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0317) (bps q 11 22 33 43 53) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.010473203903295304) (looseness-variance . 0.000109688) (looses q 0.0326 0.0441 0.0234 0.026 0.0124 0.5945)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0317) (bps q 14 27 39 53 67) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.010473203903295304) (looseness-variance . 0.000109688) (looses q 0.0326 0.0441 0.0234 0.026 0.0124 0.5945)) (fh-improved . 38) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, but one who had attended the night school only during the present teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0795) (bps q 12 27 38 48 62 75) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0468) (looseness-sd . 0.027314998932210607) (looseness-variance . 0.0007461091666666667) (looses q 0.0504 0.0004 0.0575 0.0799 0.0696 0.0227 0.1608)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0866) (bps q 12 21 30 39 51 59) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0467) (looseness-sd . 0.03345219225501771) (looseness-variance . 0.0011190491666666668) (looses q 0.0504 0.0004 0.0575 0.0799 0.0053 0.087 0.1608)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0795) (bps q 12 21 30 39 50 59) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0468) (looseness-sd . 0.027314998932210607) (looseness-variance . 0.0007461091666666667) (looses q 0.0504 0.0004 0.0575 0.0799 0.0696 0.0227 0.1608)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0866) (bps q 12 27 38 48 63 75) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0467) (looseness-sd . 0.03345219225501771) (looseness-variance . 0.0011190491666666668) (looses q 0.0504 0.0004 0.0575 0.0799 0.0053 0.087 0.1608)) (fh-improved . 51) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that he was sorry.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0436) (bps q 12 25) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0223) (looseness-sd . 0.0218) (looseness-variance . 0.00047524) (looses q 0.0441 0.0005 0.4769)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0436) (bps q 11 22) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0223) (looseness-sd . 0.0218) (looseness-variance . 0.00047524) (looses q 0.0441 0.0005 0.4769)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0436) (bps q 11 22) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0223) (looseness-sd . 0.0218) (looseness-variance . 0.00047524) (looses q 0.0441 0.0005 0.4769)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0436) (bps q 12 25) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0223) (looseness-sd . 0.0218) (looseness-variance . 0.00047524) (looses q 0.0441 0.0005 0.4769)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0594) (bps q 10 22) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 21.266999999999996) (avg-looseness . 0.0751) (looseness-sd . 0.0297) (looseness-variance . 0.0008820900000000001) (looses q 0.1048 0.0454 0.9024)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.2114) (bps q 9 18) (piece-count . 20) (avg-piece-length . 24.457049999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.112) (looseness-sd . 0.1057) (looseness-variance . 0.01117249) (looses q 0.2177 0.0063 0.8407)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.2114) (bps q 9 18) (piece-count . 20) (avg-piece-length . 24.457049999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.112) (looseness-sd . 0.1057) (looseness-variance . 0.01117249) (looses q 0.2177 0.0063 0.8407)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0594) (bps q 10 22) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 21.266999999999996) (avg-looseness . 0.0751) (looseness-sd . 0.0297) (looseness-variance . 0.0008820900000000001) (looses q 0.1048 0.0454 0.9024)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should have elsewhere.”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0568) (bps q 10 27 41 56 69 84 99 115) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0464) (looseness-sd . 0.01889920219877019) (looseness-variance . 0.00035717984375) (looses q 0.0707 0.0212 0.0539 0.042 0.0455 0.0609 0.0634 0.0139 0.6066)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0495) (bps q 10 20 31 42 53 66 77 90) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0464) (looseness-sd . 0.0143632125584773) (looseness-variance . 0.000206301875) (looses q 0.0429 0.0489 0.0539 0.042 0.0455 0.0609 0.0634 0.0139 0.6066)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0568) (bps q 9 20 31 42 53 66 77 90) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0464) (looseness-sd . 0.01889920219877019) (looseness-variance . 0.00035717984375) (looses q 0.0707 0.0212 0.0539 0.042 0.0455 0.0609 0.0634 0.0139 0.6066)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0495) (bps q 11 27 41 56 69 84 99 115) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0464) (looseness-sd . 0.0143632125584773) (looseness-variance . 0.000206301875) (looses q 0.0429 0.0489 0.0539 0.042 0.0455 0.0609 0.0634 0.0139 0.6066)) (fh-improved . 113) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0473) (bps q 11 24 36 48 60) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.044) (looseness-sd . 0.017078243469396962) (looseness-variance . 0.0002916664) (looses q 0.0752 0.0487 0.0366 0.0279 0.0318 0.2812)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0754) (bps q 9 18 27 38 48) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0333) (looseness-sd . 0.03201959400117372) (looseness-variance . 0.0010252543999999999) (looses q -0.0037 0.0717 0.0033 0.0257 0.0697 0.3455)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0754) (bps q 9 18 27 38 48) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0333) (looseness-sd . 0.03201959400117372) (looseness-variance . 0.0010252543999999999) (looses q -0.0037 0.0717 0.0033 0.0257 0.0697 0.3455)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0754) (bps q 12 25 37 49 61) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0333) (looseness-sd . 0.03201959400117372) (looseness-variance . 0.0010252543999999999) (looses q -0.0037 0.0717 0.0033 0.0257 0.0697 0.3455)) (fh-improved . 44) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0543) (bps q 12 22 33) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0725) (looseness-sd . 0.024898772839015357) (looseness-variance . 0.0006199488888888889) (looses q 0.0373 0.0885 0.0916 0.8425)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1386) (bps q 11 20 28) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.0724) (looseness-sd . 0.05740251639857689) (looseness-variance . 0.0032950488888888884) (looses q -0.0037 0.0861 0.1349 0.8425)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0543) (bps q 10 19 28) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.0725) (looseness-sd . 0.024898772839015357) (looseness-variance . 0.0006199488888888889) (looses q 0.0373 0.0885 0.0916 0.8425)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1386) (bps q 13 23 33) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0724) (looseness-sd . 0.05740251639857689) (looseness-variance . 0.0032950488888888884) (looses q -0.0037 0.0861 0.1349 0.8425)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. “Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt me out for old acquaintance’ sake.”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0709) (bps q 13 25 38 51) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0658) (looseness-sd . 0.027246685578249698) (looseness-variance . 0.0007423818750000002) (looses q 0.0834 0.0927 0.0654 0.0218 0.6679)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0709) (bps q 11 22 34 44) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0658) (looseness-sd . 0.027246685578249698) (looseness-variance . 0.0007423818750000002) (looses q 0.0834 0.0927 0.0654 0.0218 0.6679)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0709) (bps q 11 22 34 44) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0658) (looseness-sd . 0.027246685578249698) (looseness-variance . 0.0007423818750000002) (looses q 0.0834 0.0927 0.0654 0.0218 0.6679)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1086) (bps q 13 26 39 51) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0628) (looseness-sd . 0.04340161287325622) (looseness-variance . 0.0018837) (looses q 0.0834 0.0292 0.015 0.1236 0.6679)) (fh-improved . 18) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the hart’s-tongue fern.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1102) (bps q 11 24 36 48 61 74 85 99 111 124 136 153 167 181) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0368) (looseness-sd . 0.02944135731259962) (looseness-variance . 0.0008667935204081632) (looses q 0.0193 0.0377 0.014 0.0523 0.1162 0.0367 0.0684 0.0405 0.031 0.0084 0.0061 0.0168 0.0617 0.006 0.6887)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1054) (bps q 9 20 32 44 56 66 76 85 96 108 118 128 138 150) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.048) (looseness-sd . 0.03684183236817759) (looseness-variance . 0.001357320612244898) (looses q 0.0193 0.0377 0.014 0.0099 0.0705 0.0741 0.0547 0.1047 0.031 0.0084 0.0061 0.1023 0.1115 0.0274 0.5524)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 51) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1101) (bps q 9 20 32 43 55 65 75 85 96 107 117 128 138 150) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.048) (looseness-sd . 0.03160123108555186) (looseness-variance . 0.0009986378061224489) (looses q 0.0193 0.0377 0.014 0.0523 0.1162 0.0367 0.0684 0.0405 0.031 0.0527 0.0061 0.0581 0.1115 0.0274 0.5524)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.0987) (bps q 11 24 36 49 62 75 86 99 111 124 136 153 167 181) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0368) (looseness-sd . 0.03018945365926482) (looseness-variance . 0.000911403112244898) (looses q 0.0193 0.0377 0.014 0.0099 0.0705 0.0741 0.0547 0.1047 0.031 0.0084 0.0061 0.0168 0.0617 0.006 0.6887)) (fh-improved . 188) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place like this!”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1001) (bps q 15 28 40 52 66 80 92) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0251) (looseness-sd . 0.031208548017935007) (looseness-variance . 0.0009739734693877551) (looses q 0.0227 -0.0033 0.0917 0.0079 0.037 0.0283 -0.0084 0.9199)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1681) (bps q 10 19 31 42 55 66 78) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0521) (looseness-sd . 0.05241511310330879) (looseness-variance . 0.002747344081632653) (looses q 0.1581 0.0684 -0.01 0.0766 0.037 -0.0003 0.0348 0.7525)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1681) (bps q 10 19 31 42 55 66 78) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0521) (looseness-sd . 0.05241511310330879) (looseness-variance . 0.002747344081632653) (looses q 0.1581 0.0684 -0.01 0.0766 0.037 -0.0003 0.0348 0.7525)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0845) (bps q 15 28 41 53 67 81 92) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0251) (looseness-sd . 0.030299498210972647) (looseness-variance . 0.0009180595918367346) (looses q 0.0227 -0.0033 -0.0065 0.0326 -0.0034 0.078 0.0559 0.9199)) (fh-improved . 76) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry:") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1174) (bps q 13 26 38) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0415) (looseness-sd . 0.049087948283327826) (looseness-variance . 0.0024096266666666674) (looses q 0.0265 -0.0097 0.1077 0.2226)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1174) (bps q 13 23 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0415) (looseness-sd . 0.049087948283327826) (looseness-variance . 0.0024096266666666674) (looses q 0.0265 -0.0097 0.1077 0.2226)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1174) (bps q 13 23 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0415) (looseness-sd . 0.049087948283327826) (looseness-variance . 0.0024096266666666674) (looses q 0.0265 -0.0097 0.1077 0.2226)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1174) (bps q 13 26 38) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0415) (looseness-sd . 0.049087948283327826) (looseness-variance . 0.0024096266666666674) (looses q 0.0265 -0.0097 0.1077 0.2226)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0867) (bps q 11 23 36 49 61 71 80 95) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.03030331819702258) (looseness-variance . 0.0009182910937499998) (looses q 0.0662 0.0366 0.0226 0.0028 0.0807 0.0692 -0.006 0.019 0.5263)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0867) (bps q 11 21 33 46 57 66 75 87) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.03030331819702258) (looseness-variance . 0.0009182910937499998) (looses q 0.0662 0.0366 0.0226 0.0028 0.0807 0.0692 -0.006 0.019 0.5263)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0867) (bps q 11 21 33 46 57 66 75 87) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.03030331819702258) (looseness-variance . 0.0009182910937499998) (looses q 0.0662 0.0366 0.0226 0.0028 0.0807 0.0692 -0.006 0.019 0.5263)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0867) (bps q 11 23 36 49 61 71 80 95) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.03030331819702258) (looseness-variance . 0.0009182910937499998) (looses q 0.0662 0.0366 0.0226 0.0028 0.0807 0.0692 -0.006 0.019 0.5263)) (fh-improved . 30) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses warranted to last five years.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 67) (line-count . 21) (looseness-spread . 0.0905) (bps q 15 28 42 53 61 72 84 93 104 118 130 145 157 173 185 197 211 223 235 247) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.025288507271090558) (looseness-variance . 0.0006395086) (looses q 0.0239 0.0538 0.0089 0.0255 0.023 0.0106 0.0404 0.0846 -0.0032 0.0133 0.0617 0.0044 -0.0059 0.0792 0.0221 0.0173 -0.0019 0.0193 0.0442 0.0324 0.9094)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 21) (looseness-spread . 0.1294) (bps q 14 23 34 44 52 63 73 81 92 104 115 126 135 147 159 170 180 189 196 205) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0293) (looseness-sd . 0.03427945302947525) (looseness-variance . 0.0011750808999999999) (looses q 0.0239 0.0538 0.0089 0.0255 0.023 0.0106 0.0404 0.0846 -0.0032 0.0133 0.0617 0.0044 -0.0059 0.0029 0.0143 0.0293 -0.0014 0.1235 -0.005 0.0816 0.9094)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 21) (looseness-spread . 0.0905) (bps q 14 23 34 44 52 63 73 81 92 104 115 126 135 147 159 169 179 189 195 205) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0293) (looseness-sd . 0.02538922803080078) (looseness-variance . 0.0006446129) (looses q 0.0239 0.0538 0.0089 0.0255 0.023 0.0106 0.0404 0.0846 -0.0032 0.0133 0.0617 0.0044 -0.0059 0.0029 0.0143 0.0726 0.0595 0.0193 0.0442 0.0324 0.9094)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 21) (looseness-spread . 0.1294) (bps q 15 28 42 53 61 72 84 93 104 118 130 145 157 174 187 199 212 223 236 247) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0293) (looseness-sd . 0.03427945302947525) (looseness-variance . 0.0011750808999999999) (looses q 0.0239 0.0538 0.0089 0.0255 0.023 0.0106 0.0404 0.0846 -0.0032 0.0133 0.0617 0.0044 -0.0059 0.0029 0.0143 0.0293 -0.0014 0.1235 -0.005 0.0816 0.9094)) (fh-improved . 378) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 7)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0443) (bps q 13 27 42 54 66 79) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0325) (looseness-sd . 0.014747090108447382) (looseness-variance . 0.00021747666666666664) (looses q 0.0289 0.0017 0.0365 0.042 0.046 0.0399 0.0781)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1491) (bps q 10 19 30 39 48 59 71) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0735) (looseness-sd . 0.049274040025231974) (looseness-variance . 0.002427931020408163) (looses q 0.1212 0.0497 0.008 0.0538 0.1571 0.0288 0.0956 0.7534)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1288) (bps q 10 19 28 38 47 58 71) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0763) (looseness-sd . 0.043561441478370176) (looseness-variance . 0.0018975991836734697) (looses q 0.1212 0.0497 0.1332 0.1104 0.0699 0.0455 0.0044 0.7534)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0443) (bps q 13 27 42 54 66 79) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0325) (looseness-sd . 0.014747090108447382) (looseness-variance . 0.00021747666666666664) (looses q 0.0289 0.0017 0.0365 0.042 0.046 0.0399 0.0781)) (fh-improved . 76) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1331) (bps q 13 25 35 46 60) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0784) (looseness-sd . 0.04697616416865047) (looseness-variance . 0.0022067600000000003) (looses q 0.1133 0.1307 0.0589 0.0915 -0.0024 0.1275)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0486) (bps q 11 19 29 38 47) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0663) (looseness-sd . 0.01733177428886033) (looseness-variance . 0.00030039039999999996) (looses q 0.0627 0.0602 0.1002 0.0516 0.057 0.1917)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1331) (bps q 10 18 28 37 46) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0784) (looseness-sd . 0.04697616416865047) (looseness-variance . 0.0022067600000000003) (looses q 0.1133 0.1307 0.0589 0.0915 -0.0024 0.1275)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0486) (bps q 14 26 36 47 61) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0663) (looseness-sd . 0.01733177428886033) (looseness-variance . 0.00030039039999999996) (looses q 0.0627 0.0602 0.1002 0.0516 0.057 0.1917)) (fh-improved . 40) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.1517) (bps q 10 20 31 45 59 70 81 93 106 120 131 144 158 171 183 196 208) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.061) (looseness-sd . 0.03713290727600205) (looseness-variance . 0.001378852802768166) (looses q 0.1609 0.0974 0.0693 0.0901 0.0643 0.0873 0.0978 0.0468 0.0118 0.0397 0.067 0.0092 0.0613 0.0367 0.0257 0.0477 0.0242 0.6386)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.1549) (bps q 10 20 29 39 49 59 69 80 91 102 112 124 138 151 162 172 183) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0656) (looseness-sd . 0.04294149314951722) (looseness-variance . 0.0018439718339100344) (looses q 0.1609 0.0974 0.0693 0.0901 0.0643 0.006 0.0868 0.0167 0.0824 0.1371 0.1001 0.0092 0.0613 0.0367 0.0257 0.0477 0.0242 0.6386)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 57) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.1549) (bps q 10 20 29 39 49 59 69 80 91 102 112 124 138 151 162 172 183) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0656) (looseness-sd . 0.04294149314951722) (looseness-variance . 0.0018439718339100344) (looses q 0.1609 0.0974 0.0693 0.0901 0.0643 0.006 0.0868 0.0167 0.0824 0.1371 0.1001 0.0092 0.0613 0.0367 0.0257 0.0477 0.0242 0.6386)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 44) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.1549) (bps q 10 20 31 45 59 71 82 95 108 121 131 144 158 171 183 196 208) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0656) (looseness-sd . 0.04294149314951722) (looseness-variance . 0.0018439718339100344) (looses q 0.1609 0.0974 0.0693 0.0901 0.0643 0.006 0.0868 0.0167 0.0824 0.1371 0.1001 0.0092 0.0613 0.0367 0.0257 0.0477 0.0242 0.6386)) (fh-improved . 243) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 7)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0677) (bps q 13 25 38 51) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0398) (looseness-sd . 0.02573392702251252) (looseness-variance . 0.0006622350000000001) (looses q 0.0153 0.083 0.0324 0.0285 0.3896)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0677) (bps q 10 21 31 41) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0398) (looseness-sd . 0.02573392702251252) (looseness-variance . 0.0006622350000000001) (looses q 0.0153 0.083 0.0324 0.0285 0.3896)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0677) (bps q 10 21 31 41) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0398) (looseness-sd . 0.02573392702251252) (looseness-variance . 0.0006622350000000001) (looses q 0.0153 0.083 0.0324 0.0285 0.3896)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0677) (bps q 13 25 38 51) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0398) (looseness-sd . 0.02573392702251252) (looseness-variance . 0.0006622350000000001) (looses q 0.0153 0.083 0.0324 0.0285 0.3896)) (fh-improved . 24) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little maid should know such changes!”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 50) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.0715) (bps q 11 25 37 50 64 77 89 101 113 125 137 149 162 174) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0503) (looseness-sd . 0.02435386341559191) (looseness-variance . 0.0005931106632653061) (looses q 0.035 0.0774 0.0887 0.0904 0.0189 0.0243 0.0229 0.0343 0.0836 0.0451 0.0394 0.0545 0.0336 0.056 0.6561)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1641) (bps q 9 19 28 40 53 66 78 89 100 112 124 135 147 158) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0512) (looseness-sd . 0.04251382488229504) (looseness-variance . 0.0018074253061224489) (looses q 0.1573 -0.0051 0.0609 0.0904 0.0189 0.0243 0.0229 0.0343 -0.0068 0.0639 0.0394 0.0569 0.1029 0.056 0.6561)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1624) (bps q 9 19 28 40 53 66 78 89 99 111 123 134 147 158) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0511) (looseness-sd . 0.03824815121582442) (looseness-variance . 0.001462921071428571) (looses q 0.1573 -0.0051 0.0609 0.0904 0.0189 0.0243 0.0229 0.0343 0.0836 0.0451 0.0394 0.0545 0.0336 0.056 0.6561)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1097) (bps q 11 25 37 50 64 77 89 101 114 126 138 150 162 174) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0503) (looseness-sd . 0.030620697948563202) (looseness-variance . 0.0009376271428571428) (looses q 0.035 0.0774 0.0887 0.0904 0.0189 0.0243 0.0229 0.0343 -0.0068 0.0639 0.0394 0.0569 0.1029 0.056 0.6561)) (fh-improved . 160) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, and he descended into the midst of it.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0895) (bps q 14 26 39 52 66 79 91 103) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0368) (looseness-sd . 0.02620257322764312) (looseness-variance . 0.00068657484375) (looses q 0.0226 0.0923 0.0426 0.0028 0.0239 0.0417 0.0543 0.0139 0.2382)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1029) (bps q 8 19 30 40 52 64 75 86) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.037612689015809546) (looseness-variance . 0.001414714375) (looses q 0.1013 0.0257 0.0426 0.0028 0.0239 -0.0016 0.0976 0.0139 0.2382)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0985) (bps q 8 19 30 40 52 63 75 86) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.02845341587577843) (looseness-variance . 0.0008095968750000001) (looses q 0.1013 0.0257 0.0426 0.0028 0.0239 0.0417 0.0543 0.0139 0.2382)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.048) (bps q 14 27 40 53 67 81 93 104) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0198) (looseness-sd . 0.013511846653955188) (looseness-variance . 0.00018257) (looses q 0.0226 0.0223 0.0187 0.02 -0.011 0.0333 0.0155 0.037 0.3707)) (fh-improved . 105) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 9)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0618) (bps q 12 25 38 52 65 76 89) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.034) (looseness-sd . 0.0215182883774216) (looseness-variance . 0.0004630367346938775) (looses q 0.0433 0.0222 -0.0046 0.0567 0.0163 0.0466 0.0572 0.0215)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.097) (bps q 11 24 34 47 57 68 79) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.034) (looseness-sd . 0.03191434326635046) (looseness-variance . 0.0010185253061224492) (looses q 0.0433 0.0222 -0.0046 -0.012 0.085 0.0466 0.0572 0.0215)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0618) (bps q 11 24 34 46 57 68 79) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.034) (looseness-sd . 0.0215182883774216) (looseness-variance . 0.0004630367346938775) (looses q 0.0433 0.0222 -0.0046 0.0567 0.0163 0.0466 0.0572 0.0215)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.097) (bps q 12 25 38 53 65 76 89) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.034) (looseness-sd . 0.03191434326635046) (looseness-variance . 0.0010185253061224492) (looses q 0.0433 0.0222 -0.0046 -0.012 0.085 0.0466 0.0572 0.0215)) (fh-improved . 38) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and in the other that of a granary good to feed in.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 68) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.141) (bps q 11 23 37 50 60 71 83 94 107 120 131 143 155 168 181 193 205 218 230 244 258) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0463) (looseness-sd . 0.034207032733567726) (looseness-variance . 0.001170121088435374) (looses q 0.0746 0.1064 0.1518 0.0878 0.0437 0.0276 0.0313 0.0644 0.0159 0.0257 0.0351 0.0449 0.035 0.0108 0.02 0.0437 0.0151 0.0634 0.0287 0.034 0.013 0.359)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1699) (bps q 9 19 28 40 49 57 67 78 87 98 106 115 125 134 146 156 167 178 187 197 208) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0654) (looseness-sd . 0.04487345169102402) (looseness-variance . 0.0020136266666666664) (looses q 0.1682 0.0248 0.0685 0.0062 0.1274 0.0871 0.0313 0.0213 0.02 -0.0017 0.1065 0.1069 0.035 0.0108 0.0879 0.0891 0.0761 0.0282 0.1069 0.0802 0.0927 0.0377)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 63) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1775) (bps q 9 19 28 39 48 56 65 76 86 96 105 114 124 133 145 155 166 177 187 197 208) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0659) (looseness-sd . 0.04114062383709337) (looseness-variance . 0.0016925509297052153) (looses q 0.1682 0.0248 0.0685 0.1228 0.1136 0.0276 0.1124 0.0635 0.0493 0.0362 0.0489 0.0124 -0.0093 0.065 0.0891 0.0776 0.0761 0.0209 0.0426 0.0802 0.0927 0.0377)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 22) (looseness-spread . 0.1291) (bps q 11 25 39 52 61 72 84 95 108 121 133 146 157 169 182 194 206 218 230 244 258) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0484) (looseness-sd . 0.03293140469166152) (looseness-variance . 0.0010844774149659864) (looses q 0.0746 0.026 0.0557 0.0783 0.1274 0.0871 0.0313 0.0213 0.02 -0.0017 0.0203 0.0284 0.07 0.0229 0.0645 0.0528 0.0495 0.1126 0.0287 0.034 0.013 0.359)) (fh-improved . 554) (bu-improved . 18) (bh-improved . 23)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.035) (bps q 11 24 37 48 61) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0139) (looseness-sd . 0.012248036577345774) (looseness-variance . 0.00015001439999999996) (looses q 0.0113 0.0054 0.0144 0.0368 0.0018 0.4282)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.035) (bps q 10 21 33 41 50) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0139) (looseness-sd . 0.012248036577345774) (looseness-variance . 0.00015001439999999996) (looses q 0.0113 0.0054 0.0144 0.0368 0.0018 0.4282)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.035) (bps q 10 21 33 41 50) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0139) (looseness-sd . 0.012248036577345774) (looseness-variance . 0.00015001439999999996) (looses q 0.0113 0.0054 0.0144 0.0368 0.0018 0.4282)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.035) (bps q 11 24 37 48 61) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0139) (looseness-sd . 0.012248036577345774) (looseness-variance . 0.00015001439999999996) (looses q 0.0113 0.0054 0.0144 0.0368 0.0018 0.4282)) (fh-improved . 26) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0656) (bps q 12 22 35 45 57 69 82 95) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0274) (looseness-sd . 0.02419299679142706) (looseness-variance . 0.00058530109375) (looses q -0.0012 0.0499 0.0571 0.0585 -0.0071 0.0312 0.0124 0.0185 0.7669)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1023) (bps q 12 20 32 42 53 64 75 86) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0274) (looseness-sd . 0.03229734654348558) (looseness-variance . 0.00104311859375) (looses q -0.0012 0.0499 -0.0074 0.0226 0.0212 -0.0035 0.0428 0.0949 0.7669)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0656) (bps q 12 20 31 41 52 62 74 86) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0274) (looseness-sd . 0.02419299679142706) (looseness-variance . 0.00058530109375) (looses q -0.0012 0.0499 0.0571 0.0585 -0.0071 0.0312 0.0124 0.0185 0.7669)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1023) (bps q 12 22 36 46 58 71 83 95) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0274) (looseness-sd . 0.03229734654348558) (looseness-variance . 0.00104311859375) (looses q -0.0012 0.0499 -0.0074 0.0226 0.0212 -0.0035 0.0428 0.0949 0.7669)) (fh-improved . 39) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 6)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a good meal!”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0714) (bps q 10 21 31) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0881) (looseness-sd . 0.03030669159699811) (looseness-variance . 0.000918495555555556) (looses q 0.0583 0.1297 0.0764 0.152)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0714) (bps q 9 19 29) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0881) (looseness-sd . 0.03030669159699811) (looseness-variance . 0.000918495555555556) (looses q 0.0583 0.1297 0.0764 0.152)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0714) (bps q 9 19 29) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0881) (looseness-sd . 0.03030669159699811) (looseness-variance . 0.000918495555555556) (looses q 0.0583 0.1297 0.0764 0.152)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0714) (bps q 10 21 31) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0881) (looseness-sd . 0.03030669159699811) (looseness-variance . 0.000918495555555556) (looses q 0.0583 0.1297 0.0764 0.152)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much resembled his own.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0207) (bps q 12 23 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0168) (looseness-sd . 0.009342495502927588) (looseness-variance . 8.728222222222221e-05) (looses q 0.0112 0.03 0.0093 0.3037)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0938) (bps q 12 21 32) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0552) (looseness-sd . 0.038507690429604086) (looseness-variance . 0.001482842222222222) (looses q 0.0112 0.105 0.0495 0.2019)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0594) (bps q 11 21 32) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0582) (looseness-sd . 0.025023899687210135) (looseness-variance . 0.0006261955555555554) (looses q 0.0923 0.0329 0.0495 0.2019)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0207) (bps q 12 23 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0168) (looseness-sd . 0.009342495502927588) (looseness-variance . 8.728222222222221e-05) (looses q 0.0112 0.03 0.0093 0.3037)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the clacker swinging in his hand.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0591) (bps q 12 25 38 51 62 73 85 98 109) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0356) (looseness-sd . 0.016519752486711847) (looseness-variance . 0.00027290222222222223) (looses q 0.0303 0.0228 0.0255 0.038 0.0116 0.0337 0.0541 0.0707 0.034 0.1736)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0604) (bps q 12 22 34 45 54 64 73 84 93) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0356) (looseness-sd . 0.016760204188626237) (looseness-variance . 0.0002809044444444444) (looses q 0.0303 0.0228 0.0255 0.0103 0.0393 0.0337 0.0541 0.0707 0.034 0.1736)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0591) (bps q 12 22 34 44 54 64 73 84 93) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0356) (looseness-sd . 0.016519752486711847) (looseness-variance . 0.00027290222222222223) (looses q 0.0303 0.0228 0.0255 0.038 0.0116 0.0337 0.0541 0.0707 0.034 0.1736)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0604) (bps q 12 25 38 52 62 73 85 98 109) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0356) (looseness-sd . 0.016760204188626237) (looseness-variance . 0.0002809044444444444) (looses q 0.0303 0.0228 0.0255 0.0103 0.0393 0.0337 0.0541 0.0707 0.034 0.1736)) (fh-improved . 73) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.037) (bps q 12 22 33 45 57) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0451) (looseness-sd . 0.014359247891167558) (looseness-variance . 0.000206188) (looses q 0.0334 0.0613 0.0243 0.059 0.0475 0.4221)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.037) (bps q 12 22 33 42 53) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0451) (looseness-sd . 0.014359247891167558) (looseness-variance . 0.000206188) (looses q 0.0334 0.0613 0.0243 0.059 0.0475 0.4221)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.037) (bps q 12 22 33 42 53) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0451) (looseness-sd . 0.014359247891167558) (looseness-variance . 0.000206188) (looses q 0.0334 0.0613 0.0243 0.059 0.0475 0.4221)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.037) (bps q 12 22 33 45 57) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0451) (looseness-sd . 0.014359247891167558) (looseness-variance . 0.000206188) (looses q 0.0334 0.0613 0.0243 0.059 0.0475 0.4221)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0449) (bps q 10 21 32 44 56) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0327) (looseness-sd . 0.01654165650713374) (looseness-variance . 0.00027362640000000004) (looses q 0.0184 0.0449 0.0353 0.055 0.0101 0.2903)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0449) (bps q 8 19 29 41 52) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0327) (looseness-sd . 0.01654165650713374) (looseness-variance . 0.00027362640000000004) (looses q 0.0184 0.0449 0.0353 0.055 0.0101 0.2903)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0449) (bps q 8 19 29 41 52) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0327) (looseness-sd . 0.01654165650713374) (looseness-variance . 0.00027362640000000004) (looses q 0.0184 0.0449 0.0353 0.055 0.0101 0.2903)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0449) (bps q 10 21 32 44 56) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0327) (looseness-sd . 0.01654165650713374) (looseness-variance . 0.00027362640000000004) (looses q 0.0184 0.0449 0.0353 0.055 0.0101 0.2903)) (fh-improved . 14) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0844) (bps q 9 22 35 48 61 74 87 100) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0589) (looseness-sd . 0.025807205873554) (looseness-variance . 0.0006660118750000001) (looses q 0.1058 0.079 0.0596 0.0629 0.0706 0.043 0.0214 0.0287 0.1243)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1329) (bps q 9 18 29 40 51 62 74 85) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0646) (looseness-sd . 0.039489357743574406) (looseness-variance . 0.0015594093750000001) (looses q 0.1058 0.079 -0.0046 0.0245 0.0581 0.1283 0.0688 0.0571 0.0518)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0628) (bps q 9 18 28 39 49 62 74 85) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0684) (looseness-sd . 0.017308379473538246) (looseness-variance . 0.0002995800000000001) (looses q 0.1058 0.079 0.0596 0.0629 0.0706 0.043 0.0688 0.0571 0.0518)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1179) (bps q 9 23 36 49 63 74 87 100) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0536) (looseness-sd . 0.039840241512194674) (looseness-variance . 0.0015872448437499998) (looses q 0.1058 0.0104 0.0519 0.0245 0.0581 0.1283 0.0214 0.0287 0.1243)) (fh-improved . 73) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0641) (bps q 13 25 36 50 64 77 88 99 110) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0317) (looseness-sd . 0.02209227002962186) (looseness-variance . 0.00048806839506172837) (looses q 0.0134 0.0204 0.0338 0.009 0.0635 0.0731 0.0124 0.0174 0.0421 0.504)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1122) (bps q 8 18 30 39 50 59 68 78 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0397) (looseness-sd . 0.0336486750605924) (looseness-variance . 0.0011322333333333332) (looses q 0.0134 0.0204 -0.0095 0.0523 0.0635 0.0223 0.0745 0.0174 0.1027 0.4554)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0655) (bps q 8 18 29 39 50 59 68 77 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0397) (looseness-sd . 0.023444644548909058) (looseness-variance . 0.0005496513580246912) (looses q 0.0134 0.0204 0.0338 0.009 0.0635 0.0223 0.0745 0.0607 0.0593 0.4554)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.084) (bps q 13 25 37 50 64 78 88 99 110) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0329) (looseness-sd . 0.025418234924295326) (looseness-variance . 0.0006460866666666667) (looses q 0.0134 0.0204 -0.0095 0.0523 0.0635 0.0223 0.0745 0.0174 0.0421 0.504)) (fh-improved . 128) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and never let him see him in one of those fields again.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0369) (bps q 10 24 37 50) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0473) (looseness-sd . 0.013498032264000556) (looseness-variance . 0.00018219687499999997) (looses q 0.0624 0.0496 0.0518 0.0255 0.5913)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0369) (bps q 9 19 31 44) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0473) (looseness-sd . 0.013498032264000556) (looseness-variance . 0.00018219687499999997) (looses q 0.0624 0.0496 0.0518 0.0255 0.5913)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0369) (bps q 9 19 31 44) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0473) (looseness-sd . 0.013498032264000556) (looseness-variance . 0.00018219687499999997) (looses q 0.0624 0.0496 0.0518 0.0255 0.5913)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0369) (bps q 10 24 37 50) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0473) (looseness-sd . 0.013498032264000556) (looseness-variance . 0.00018219687499999997) (looses q 0.0624 0.0496 0.0518 0.0255 0.5913)) (fh-improved . 18) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0519) (bps q 11 22 36 47 59 72 85) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.035) (looseness-sd . 0.016107534046564186) (looseness-variance . 0.0002594526530612245) (looses q 0.0106 0.0625 0.042 0.0199 0.0467 0.0279 0.0355 0.8863)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1139) (bps q 10 19 30 40 51 62 75) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.038807794293919666) (looseness-variance . 0.0015060448979591838) (looses q 0.107 0.0662 0.0631 -0.0044 0.0237 0.0196 -0.0069 0.8863)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1139) (bps q 10 19 30 40 51 62 75) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.038807794293919666) (looseness-variance . 0.0015060448979591838) (looses q 0.107 0.0662 0.0631 -0.0044 0.0237 0.0196 -0.0069 0.8863)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0519) (bps q 11 22 36 47 59 72 85) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.035) (looseness-sd . 0.016107534046564186) (looseness-variance . 0.0002594526530612245) (looses q 0.0106 0.0625 0.042 0.0199 0.0467 0.0279 0.0355 0.8863)) (fh-improved . 45) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them at each tread.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0698) (bps q 13 26 38 49 62 76 90) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0314) (looseness-sd . 0.02458544450752626) (looseness-variance . 0.000604444081632653) (looses q 0.0115 0.065 0.0576 -0.0048 0.0495 0.0291 0.012 0.8228)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.095) (bps q 12 22 33 42 54 66 76) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0331) (looseness-sd . 0.03215647965299481) (looseness-variance . 0.0010340391836734695) (looses q 0.0902 -0.0017 0.0576 -0.0048 0.0495 0.0291 0.012 0.8228)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.095) (bps q 12 22 33 42 54 66 76) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0331) (looseness-sd . 0.03215647965299481) (looseness-variance . 0.0010340391836734695) (looses q 0.0902 -0.0017 0.0576 -0.0048 0.0495 0.0291 0.012 0.8228)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0698) (bps q 13 26 38 49 62 76 90) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0314) (looseness-sd . 0.02458544450752626) (looseness-variance . 0.000604444081632653) (looses q 0.0115 0.065 0.0576 -0.0048 0.0495 0.0291 0.012 0.8228)) (fh-improved . 49) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 51) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.076) (bps q 11 24 36 49 63 75 88 102 116 129 143 156 169) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.023114543693906545) (looseness-variance . 0.0005342821301775148) (looses q 0.0085 0.007 0.0124 0.0214 0.0165 0.0095 0.0485 0.075 0.0534 0.0392 0.0119 0.0574 -0.001 0.3185)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.0817) (bps q 11 22 33 43 54 66 78 90 101 113 126 136 146) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.026234867715002275) (looseness-variance . 0.0006882682840236686) (looses q 0.0085 0.007 0.0124 0.0214 0.0165 0.0095 0.0485 -0.0011 0.0806 -0.0002 0.0413 0.0403 0.075 0.3185)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 47) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.076) (bps q 11 22 33 43 54 66 78 89 100 112 125 135 146) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.023114543693906545) (looseness-variance . 0.0005342821301775148) (looses q 0.0085 0.007 0.0124 0.0214 0.0165 0.0095 0.0485 0.075 0.0534 0.0392 0.0119 0.0574 -0.001 0.3185)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.0817) (bps q 11 24 36 49 63 75 88 103 117 130 144 157 169) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.026234867715002275) (looseness-variance . 0.0006882682840236686) (looses q 0.0085 0.007 0.0124 0.0214 0.0165 0.0095 0.0485 -0.0011 0.0806 -0.0002 0.0413 0.0403 0.075 0.3185)) (fh-improved . 147) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0269) (bps q 14 28 41) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0449) (looseness-sd . 0.011558835004734112) (looseness-variance . 0.00013360666666666665) (looses q 0.034 0.0609 0.0398 0.5237)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0845) (bps q 11 23 35) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0711) (looseness-sd . 0.03524772648302613) (looseness-variance . 0.0012424022222222218) (looses q 0.034 0.0609 0.1185 0.4571)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0845) (bps q 11 23 35) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0711) (looseness-sd . 0.03524772648302613) (looseness-variance . 0.0012424022222222218) (looses q 0.034 0.0609 0.1185 0.4571)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0269) (bps q 14 28 41) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0449) (looseness-sd . 0.011558835004734112) (looseness-variance . 0.00013360666666666665) (looses q 0.034 0.0609 0.0398 0.5237)) (fh-improved . 14) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1066) (bps q 10 22) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0459) (looseness-sd . 0.0533) (looseness-variance . 0.00284089) (looses q 0.0992 -0.0074 0.5972)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1066) (bps q 10 21) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0459) (looseness-sd . 0.0533) (looseness-variance . 0.00284089) (looses q 0.0992 -0.0074 0.5972)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1066) (bps q 10 21) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0459) (looseness-sd . 0.0533) (looseness-variance . 0.00284089) (looses q 0.0992 -0.0074 0.5972)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1066) (bps q 10 22) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0459) (looseness-sd . 0.0533) (looseness-variance . 0.00284089) (looses q 0.0992 -0.0074 0.5972)) (fh-improved . 1) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of mischty.”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.09) (bps q 11 23 35 46 57 69 81 93 104 119 131) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0762) (looseness-sd . 0.02520946627921037) (looseness-variance . 0.0006355171900826447) (looses q 0.1297 0.0615 0.0397 0.0718 0.0672 0.0408 0.0722 0.1002 0.0714 0.0839 0.0997 0.9168)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1478) (bps q 9 20 31 43 52 64 75 86 94 109 120) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0828) (looseness-sd . 0.0418102383759989) (looseness-variance . 0.0017480960330578511) (looses q 0.1297 0.0615 0.0397 0.0249 0.114 0.0408 0.0722 0.1002 0.0714 0.0839 0.1727 0.8558)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0943) (bps q 9 20 31 42 52 64 75 86 94 108 120) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0832) (looseness-sd . 0.032632772656329245) (looseness-variance . 0.0010648978512396697) (looses q 0.1297 0.0615 0.0397 0.0718 0.0672 0.0408 0.0722 0.1002 0.0714 0.134 0.1265 0.8558)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.1048) (bps q 11 23 35 47 57 69 81 93 104 119 131) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0762) (looseness-sd . 0.03155205851753915) (looseness-variance . 0.000995532396694215) (looses q 0.1297 0.0615 0.0397 0.0249 0.114 0.0408 0.0722 0.1002 0.0714 0.0839 0.0997 0.9168)) (fh-improved . 67) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, and only secondarily from a moral one.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0124) (bps q 12 26) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0299) (looseness-sd . 0.006200000000000001) (looseness-variance . 3.844000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0237 0.0361 0.0331)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0124) (bps q 10 20) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0299) (looseness-sd . 0.006200000000000001) (looseness-variance . 3.844000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0237 0.0361 0.0331)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0124) (bps q 10 20) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0299) (looseness-sd . 0.006200000000000001) (looseness-variance . 3.844000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0237 0.0361 0.0331)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0124) (bps q 12 26) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0299) (looseness-sd . 0.006200000000000001) (looseness-variance . 3.844000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0237 0.0361 0.0331)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy side of the family, and never will be!”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0653) (bps q 11 21 34 46 58) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0343) (looseness-sd . 0.021845036049409485) (looseness-variance . 0.00047720559999999996) (looses q 0.0678 0.0216 0.0437 0.0025 0.036 0.6366)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1122) (bps q 11 21 32 40 51) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0496) (looseness-sd . 0.03877261920479451) (looseness-variance . 0.0015033160000000002) (looses q 0.0678 0.0216 0.0003 0.0458 0.1125 0.5721)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.11) (bps q 11 21 31 40 51) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0496) (looseness-sd . 0.03827497354669236) (looseness-variance . 0.0014649735999999998) (looses q 0.0678 0.0216 0.0437 0.0025 0.1125 0.5721)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0675) (bps q 11 21 35 46 58) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0343) (looseness-sd . 0.02269220130353157) (looseness-variance . 0.0005149359999999999) (looses q 0.0678 0.0216 0.0003 0.0458 0.036 0.6366)) (fh-improved . 16) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0088) (bps q 12 26) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 18.773111111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.047) (looseness-sd . 0.004400000000000001) (looseness-variance . 1.936000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0514 0.0426 0.8805)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0088) (bps q 10 20) (piece-count . 21) (avg-piece-length . 24.136857142857142) (avg-looseness . 0.047) (looseness-sd . 0.004400000000000001) (looseness-variance . 1.936000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0514 0.0426 0.8805)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0088) (bps q 10 20) (piece-count . 21) (avg-piece-length . 24.136857142857142) (avg-looseness . 0.047) (looseness-sd . 0.004400000000000001) (looseness-variance . 1.936000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0514 0.0426 0.8805)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0088) (bps q 12 26) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 18.773111111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.047) (looseness-sd . 0.004400000000000001) (looseness-variance . 1.936000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0514 0.0426 0.8805)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0079) (bps q 12 26 39) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0349) (looseness-sd . 0.0032293790252754307) (looseness-variance . 1.042888888888889e-05) (looses q 0.0311 0.039 0.0347 0.815)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0079) (bps q 10 24 37) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0349) (looseness-sd . 0.0032293790252754307) (looseness-variance . 1.042888888888889e-05) (looses q 0.0311 0.039 0.0347 0.815)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0079) (bps q 10 24 37) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0349) (looseness-sd . 0.0032293790252754307) (looseness-variance . 1.042888888888889e-05) (looses q 0.0311 0.039 0.0347 0.815)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0079) (bps q 12 26 39) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0349) (looseness-sd . 0.0032293790252754307) (looseness-variance . 1.042888888888889e-05) (looses q 0.0311 0.039 0.0347 0.815)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor folk in Christminster with we.”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0068) (bps q 11 24) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0195) (looseness-sd . 0.0034000000000000002) (looseness-variance . 1.1560000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0229 0.0161 0.124)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0068) (bps q 10 22) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0195) (looseness-sd . 0.0034000000000000002) (looseness-variance . 1.1560000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0229 0.0161 0.124)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0068) (bps q 10 22) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0195) (looseness-sd . 0.0034000000000000002) (looseness-variance . 1.1560000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0229 0.0161 0.124)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0068) (bps q 11 24) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0195) (looseness-sd . 0.0034000000000000002) (looseness-variance . 1.1560000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0229 0.0161 0.124)) (fh-improved . 3) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 55) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.0765) (bps q 12 25 40 52 64 76 86 99 111 123 135 150 166 180 192 205) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0299) (looseness-sd . 0.025298090806175476) (looseness-variance . 0.0006399933984375001) (looses q 0.0536 0.0454 0.0501 -0.0083 0.0601 0.067 0.0343 0.0474 0.0512 0.0281 -0.0075 0.0222 -0.0095 0.033 -0.0069 0.0187 0.0464)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.087) (bps q 11 23 36 46 58 68 75 85 96 106 116 129 142 153 162 172) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0296) (looseness-sd . 0.027850179532634974) (looseness-variance . 0.0007756325) (looses q 0.0102 0.061 0.0779 -0.0083 0.0601 0.067 0.0343 -0.0032 0.0213 0.0479 0.0017 0.0047 -0.0091 0.0449 0.0437 0.0187 0.0464)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 38) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.0753) (bps q 10 22 36 46 58 68 75 85 96 106 116 129 141 152 162 172) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0301) (looseness-sd . 0.02555895681434397) (looseness-variance . 0.0006532602734375001) (looses q 0.0536 0.0454 0.0501 -0.0083 0.0601 0.067 0.0343 -0.0032 0.0213 0.0479 0.0017 0.0047 0.0625 0.033 -0.0069 0.0187 0.0464)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.087) (bps q 13 26 40 52 64 76 86 100 112 124 136 151 167 181 192 205) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0296) (looseness-sd . 0.027850179532634974) (looseness-variance . 0.0007756325) (looses q 0.0102 0.061 0.0779 -0.0083 0.0601 0.067 0.0343 -0.0032 0.0213 0.0479 0.0017 0.0047 -0.0091 0.0449 0.0437 0.0187 0.0464)) (fh-improved . 247) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 9)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0708) (bps q 13 26 38 52) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0294) (looseness-sd . 0.0271592065421654) (looseness-variance . 0.0007376225) (looses q 0.0162 0.0043 0.0751 0.0218 0.3948)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0708) (bps q 10 20 30 43) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.0294) (looseness-sd . 0.0271592065421654) (looseness-variance . 0.0007376225) (looses q 0.0162 0.0043 0.0751 0.0218 0.3948)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0708) (bps q 10 20 30 43) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.0294) (looseness-sd . 0.0271592065421654) (looseness-variance . 0.0007376225) (looses q 0.0162 0.0043 0.0751 0.0218 0.3948)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0708) (bps q 13 26 38 52) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0294) (looseness-sd . 0.0271592065421654) (looseness-variance . 0.0007376225) (looses q 0.0162 0.0043 0.0751 0.0218 0.3948)) (fh-improved . 26) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.”") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0082) (bps q 12 25) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 19.480574074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0079) (looseness-sd . 0.0041) (looseness-variance . 1.6810000000000003e-05) (looses q 0.012 0.0038 0.8717)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0082) (bps q 9 21) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 22.8685) (avg-looseness . 0.0079) (looseness-sd . 0.0041) (looseness-variance . 1.6810000000000003e-05) (looses q 0.012 0.0038 0.8717)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0082) (bps q 9 21) (piece-count . 23) (avg-piece-length . 22.8685) (avg-looseness . 0.0079) (looseness-sd . 0.0041) (looseness-variance . 1.6810000000000003e-05) (looses q 0.012 0.0038 0.8717)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0082) (bps q 12 25) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 19.480574074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0079) (looseness-sd . 0.0041) (looseness-variance . 1.6810000000000003e-05) (looses q 0.012 0.0038 0.8717)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak open down.") (measure . 270) (bh h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1005) (bps q 11 24 35 47 58 71 86 98 111 124 136 149) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0318) (looseness-sd . 0.030794898341915154) (looseness-variance . 0.0009483257638888887) (looses q 0.0711 0.0082 0.0563 0.0544 0.0178 0.0395 -0.0057 0.0948 -0.002 0.0311 -0.0032 0.0188 0.1991)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.2391) (bps q 9 20 28 37 47 58 69 80 88 97 108 120 131) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0622) (looseness-sd . 0.06695331500779139) (looseness-variance . 0.004482746390532545) (looses q 0.0711 0.0082 -0.0019 0.1127 0.0178 0.2262 0.033 0.0142 0.1436 0.1187 0.0331 0.0451 -0.0129 0.8099)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1619) (bps q 9 20 27 37 46 58 68 78 87 97 108 120 131) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0616) (looseness-sd . 0.04086905196213907) (looseness-variance . 0.0016702794082840236) (looses q 0.0711 0.0082 0.0563 0.0544 0.095 0.149 0.1068 0.093 0.0467 0.0544 0.0331 0.0451 -0.0129 0.8099)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1184) (bps q 11 24 36 47 58 71 86 98 111 124 136 149) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0318) (looseness-sd . 0.03867536540084513) (looseness-variance . 0.0014957838888888886) (looses q 0.0711 0.0082 -0.0019 0.1127 0.0178 0.0395 -0.0057 0.0948 -0.002 0.0311 -0.0032 0.0188 0.1991)) (fh-improved . 190) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in moving house.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0653) (bps q 14 26 42 57 69 83 100 115 129 143 160) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0232) (looseness-sd . 0.01932442038304114) (looseness-variance . 0.0003734332231404959) (looses q 0.0079 0.042 0.0682 0.0286 0.0238 0.0029 0.0075 0.0341 0.0292 0.0077 0.0029 0.4778)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.079) (bps q 9 20 33 44 54 64 76 89 100 111 122) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0199) (looseness-sd . 0.021311092056206297) (looseness-variance . 0.00045416264462809914) (looses q 0.0079 0.042 0.0682 0.0286 0.0238 0.0029 0.0075 -0.0108 0.0131 0.0336 0.002 0.5168)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.079) (bps q 9 20 33 44 54 64 76 89 100 111 122) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0199) (looseness-sd . 0.021311092056206297) (looseness-variance . 0.00045416264462809914) (looses q 0.0079 0.042 0.0682 0.0286 0.0238 0.0029 0.0075 -0.0108 0.0131 0.0336 0.002 0.5168)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.079) (bps q 14 26 42 57 69 83 100 116 130 144 161) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0199) (looseness-sd . 0.021311092056206297) (looseness-variance . 0.00045416264462809914) (looses q 0.0079 0.042 0.0682 0.0286 0.0238 0.0029 0.0075 -0.0108 0.0131 0.0336 0.002 0.5168)) (fh-improved . 220) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and everything would be smooth again.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0085) (bps q 15 28 40) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0374) (looseness-sd . 0.003589800365851375) (looseness-variance . 1.2886666666666666e-05) (looses q 0.0325 0.041 0.0387 0.4104)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0085) (bps q 13 26 37) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0374) (looseness-sd . 0.003589800365851375) (looseness-variance . 1.2886666666666666e-05) (looses q 0.0325 0.041 0.0387 0.4104)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0085) (bps q 13 26 37) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0374) (looseness-sd . 0.003589800365851375) (looseness-variance . 1.2886666666666666e-05) (looses q 0.0325 0.041 0.0387 0.4104)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0085) (bps q 15 28 40) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0374) (looseness-sd . 0.003589800365851375) (looseness-variance . 1.2886666666666666e-05) (looses q 0.0325 0.041 0.0387 0.4104)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary lodgings just at first.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.056) (bps q 13 27 41 56 70) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0439) (looseness-sd . 0.019155093317444322) (looseness-variance . 0.0003669176000000001) (looses q 0.0519 0.067 0.036 0.0535 0.011 0.4613)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.056) (bps q 9 19 31 46 58) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0439) (looseness-sd . 0.019155093317444322) (looseness-variance . 0.0003669176000000001) (looses q 0.0519 0.067 0.036 0.0535 0.011 0.4613)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.056) (bps q 9 19 31 46 58) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0439) (looseness-sd . 0.019155093317444322) (looseness-variance . 0.0003669176000000001) (looses q 0.0519 0.067 0.036 0.0535 0.011 0.4613)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.056) (bps q 13 27 41 56 70) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0439) (looseness-sd . 0.019155093317444322) (looseness-variance . 0.0003669176000000001) (looses q 0.0519 0.067 0.036 0.0535 0.011 0.4613)) (fh-improved . 44) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve found a place to settle in, sir.”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0588) (bps q 15 28 42 56) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0361) (looseness-sd . 0.024519074207644955) (looseness-variance . 0.0006011850000000001) (looses q 0.023 0.0197 0.0232 0.0785 0.4494)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0588) (bps q 12 24 37 50) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0361) (looseness-sd . 0.024519074207644955) (looseness-variance . 0.0006011850000000001) (looses q 0.023 0.0197 0.0232 0.0785 0.4494)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0588) (bps q 12 24 37 50) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0361) (looseness-sd . 0.024519074207644955) (looseness-variance . 0.0006011850000000001) (looses q 0.023 0.0197 0.0232 0.0785 0.4494)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0588) (bps q 15 28 42 56) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0361) (looseness-sd . 0.024519074207644955) (looseness-variance . 0.0006011850000000001) (looses q 0.023 0.0197 0.0232 0.0785 0.4494)) (fh-improved . 18) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy and the schoolmaster were left standing alone.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0633) (bps q 15 30 43 60) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0158) (looseness-sd . 0.025695962717905706) (looseness-variance . 0.0006602825) (looses q 0.0143 -0.0042 0.0583 -0.005 0.1794)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0633) (bps q 12 25 37 48) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0158) (looseness-sd . 0.025695962717905706) (looseness-variance . 0.0006602825) (looses q 0.0143 -0.0042 0.0583 -0.005 0.1794)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0633) (bps q 12 25 37 48) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0158) (looseness-sd . 0.025695962717905706) (looseness-variance . 0.0006602825) (looses q 0.0143 -0.0042 0.0583 -0.005 0.1794)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0633) (bps q 15 30 43 60) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0158) (looseness-sd . 0.025695962717905706) (looseness-variance . 0.0006602825) (looses q 0.0143 -0.0042 0.0583 -0.005 0.1794)) (fh-improved . 26) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, but one who had attended the night school only during the present teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0476) (bps q 15 29 42 56 69 87) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0245) (looseness-sd . 0.01471926175684999) (looseness-variance . 0.00021665666666666663) (looses q 0.0287 0.0453 0.021 0.0344 0.0199 -0.0023 0.9129)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1883) (bps q 13 21 31 41 53 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0936) (looseness-sd . 0.06983830531226319) (looseness-variance . 0.004877388888888889) (looses q 0.0287 0.217 0.044 0.0824 0.0347 0.155 0.5195)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1534) (bps q 12 21 31 41 52 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0936) (looseness-sd . 0.053359993336664586) (looseness-variance . 0.002847288888888889) (looses q 0.1454 0.1004 0.044 0.0824 0.1715 0.0181 0.5195)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0476) (bps q 15 29 42 56 69 87) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0245) (looseness-sd . 0.01471926175684999) (looseness-variance . 0.00021665666666666663) (looses q 0.0287 0.0453 0.021 0.0344 0.0199 -0.0023 0.9129)) (fh-improved . 77) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that he was sorry.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0003) (bps q 13 27) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0298) (looseness-sd . 0.0001499999999999991) (looseness-variance . 2.2499999999999728e-08) (looses q 0.03 0.0297 0.6824)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0989) (bps q 12 23) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0794) (looseness-sd . 0.049449999999999994) (looseness-variance . 0.002445302499999999) (looses q 0.03 0.1289 0.5941)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0989) (bps q 12 23) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0794) (looseness-sd . 0.049449999999999994) (looseness-variance . 0.002445302499999999) (looses q 0.03 0.1289 0.5941)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0003) (bps q 13 27) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0298) (looseness-sd . 0.0001499999999999991) (looseness-variance . 2.2499999999999728e-08) (looses q 0.03 0.0297 0.6824)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should have elsewhere.”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0356) (bps q 13 31 45 62 80 97 115) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0165) (looseness-sd . 0.0144721407242625) (looseness-variance . 0.0002094428571428571) (looses q 0.0295 0.0354 0.0032 0.0338 -0.0002 0.0064 0.0074 0.6459)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.2063) (bps q 10 21 34 47 59 72 85) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0631) (looseness-sd . 0.07331579443943655) (looseness-variance . 0.005375205714285714) (looses q 0.1386 0.001 0.047 0.0103 0.2073 0.0066 0.0309 0.3223)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1566) (bps q 10 21 34 46 59 71 85) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0654) (looseness-sd . 0.05645778267422301) (looseness-variance . 0.003187481224489796) (looses q 0.1386 0.001 0.047 0.0678 0.1576 0.0359 0.0098 0.3223)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.044) (bps q 13 31 45 63 80 97 115) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0165) (looseness-sd . 0.016283646485266833) (looseness-variance . 0.00026515714285714286) (looses q 0.0295 0.0354 0.0032 -0.0052 0.0388 0.0064 0.0074 0.6459)) (fh-improved . 116) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0747) (bps q 13 28 41 53 68) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0297) (looseness-sd . 0.02802146320233831) (looseness-variance . 0.0007852024) (looses q 0.0273 -0.0014 0.0469 0.0733 0.0022 0.906)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0747) (bps q 10 20 30 42 53) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0297) (looseness-sd . 0.02802146320233831) (looseness-variance . 0.0007852024) (looses q 0.0273 -0.0014 0.0469 0.0733 0.0022 0.906)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0747) (bps q 10 20 30 42 53) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0297) (looseness-sd . 0.02802146320233831) (looseness-variance . 0.0007852024) (looses q 0.0273 -0.0014 0.0469 0.0733 0.0022 0.906)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0747) (bps q 13 28 41 53 68) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0297) (looseness-sd . 0.02802146320233831) (looseness-variance . 0.0007852024) (looses q 0.0273 -0.0014 0.0469 0.0733 0.0022 0.906)) (fh-improved . 48) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0209) (bps q 14 26) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.011) (looseness-sd . 0.01045) (looseness-variance . 0.00010920249999999998) (looses q 0.0214 0.0005 0.3236)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0209) (bps q 12 23) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.011) (looseness-sd . 0.01045) (looseness-variance . 0.00010920249999999998) (looses q 0.0214 0.0005 0.3236)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0209) (bps q 12 23) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.011) (looseness-sd . 0.01045) (looseness-variance . 0.00010920249999999998) (looses q 0.0214 0.0005 0.3236)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0209) (bps q 14 26) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.011) (looseness-sd . 0.01045) (looseness-variance . 0.00010920249999999998) (looses q 0.0214 0.0005 0.3236)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. “Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt me out for old acquaintance’ sake.”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0733) (bps q 14 29 43) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0573) (looseness-sd . 0.03020754136892898) (looseness-variance . 0.0009124955555555556) (looses q 0.0631 0.0177 0.091 0.1661)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0733) (bps q 12 25 37) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0573) (looseness-sd . 0.03020754136892898) (looseness-variance . 0.0009124955555555556) (looses q 0.0631 0.0177 0.091 0.1661)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0733) (bps q 12 25 37) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0573) (looseness-sd . 0.03020754136892898) (looseness-variance . 0.0009124955555555556) (looses q 0.0631 0.0177 0.091 0.1661)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0733) (bps q 14 29 43) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0573) (looseness-sd . 0.03020754136892898) (looseness-variance . 0.0009124955555555556) (looses q 0.0631 0.0177 0.091 0.1661)) (fh-improved . 12) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the hart’s-tongue fern.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0958) (bps q 13 27 40 53 68 82 97 110 125 139 158 174) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.02718614332502661) (looseness-variance . 0.0007390863888888889) (looses q -0.0009 0.0475 0.0364 0.0874 0.0593 0.0258 0.0421 0.0107 -0.0033 0.0123 0.0233 -0.0084 0.2229)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1161) (bps q 10 23 36 49 62 73 84 95 109 120 131 144) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0368) (looseness-sd . 0.034080235189264105) (looseness-variance . 0.0011614624305555554) (looses q 0.0596 -0.0021 -0.0092 0.0419 0.059 0.0523 0.1069 0.0107 -0.0033 0.0637 0.0081 0.0535 0.1361)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0879) (bps q 10 22 35 47 61 72 84 95 108 120 130 144) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0368) (looseness-sd . 0.025101664121461482) (looseness-variance . 0.0006300935416666667) (looses q 0.0596 0.0348 -0.0005 0.0874 0.0593 0.0258 0.0421 0.0107 0.0546 0.0058 0.045 0.0167 0.1361)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1161) (bps q 13 27 41 55 69 83 97 110 125 139 158 174) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.03346697688269239) (looseness-variance . 0.0011200385416666664) (looses q -0.0009 0.0475 -0.0092 0.0419 0.059 0.0523 0.1069 0.0107 -0.0033 0.0123 0.0233 -0.0084 0.2229)) (fh-improved . 155) (bu-improved . 8) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place like this!”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0607) (bps q 17 31 44 58 74 88) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.037) (looseness-sd . 0.020061322654966362) (looseness-variance . 0.0004024566666666666) (looses q 0.0167 0.0408 0.02 0.0382 0.0774 0.0289 0.583)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0616) (bps q 12 25 36 49 63 76) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.037) (looseness-sd . 0.020915464772905876) (looseness-variance . 0.0004374566666666666) (looses q 0.0167 0.0158 0.045 0.0382 0.0774 0.0289 0.583)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0607) (bps q 12 24 36 49 63 76) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.037) (looseness-sd . 0.020061322654966362) (looseness-variance . 0.0004024566666666666) (looses q 0.0167 0.0408 0.02 0.0382 0.0774 0.0289 0.583)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0616) (bps q 17 32 44 58 74 88) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.037) (looseness-sd . 0.020915464772905876) (looseness-variance . 0.0004374566666666666) (looses q 0.0167 0.0158 0.045 0.0382 0.0774 0.0289 0.583)) (fh-improved . 52) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry:") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0114) (bps q 14 29 41) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0308) (looseness-sd . 0.004682829154356253) (looseness-variance . 2.19288888888889e-05) (looses q 0.0301 0.0255 0.0369 0.5982)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1165) (bps q 13 24 37) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0621) (looseness-sd . 0.047825167711850906) (looseness-variance . 0.0022872466666666665) (looses q 0.1239 0.0074 0.055 0.5261)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1165) (bps q 13 24 37) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0621) (looseness-sd . 0.047825167711850906) (looseness-variance . 0.0022872466666666665) (looses q 0.1239 0.0074 0.055 0.5261)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0114) (bps q 14 29 41) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0308) (looseness-sd . 0.004682829154356253) (looseness-variance . 2.19288888888889e-05) (looses q 0.0301 0.0255 0.0369 0.5982)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0788) (bps q 12 26 39 53 67 78 90) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0416) (looseness-sd . 0.02647688248496127) (looseness-variance . 0.0007010253061224489) (looses q 0.0797 0.0524 0.0602 0.0114 0.0579 0.0009 0.029 0.3354)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0788) (bps q 12 24 36 49 62 73 84) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0416) (looseness-sd . 0.02647688248496127) (looseness-variance . 0.0007010253061224489) (looses q 0.0797 0.0524 0.0602 0.0114 0.0579 0.0009 0.029 0.3354)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0788) (bps q 12 24 36 49 62 73 84) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0416) (looseness-sd . 0.02647688248496127) (looseness-variance . 0.0007010253061224489) (looses q 0.0797 0.0524 0.0602 0.0114 0.0579 0.0009 0.029 0.3354)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0788) (bps q 12 26 39 53 67 78 90) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0416) (looseness-sd . 0.02647688248496127) (looseness-variance . 0.0007010253061224489) (looses q 0.0797 0.0524 0.0602 0.0114 0.0579 0.0009 0.029 0.3354)) (fh-improved . 25) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses warranted to last five years.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.0948) (bps q 16 30 45 55 65 78 90 102 117 130 146 160 176 190 205 218 231 245) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0356) (looseness-sd . 0.023931081602524083) (looseness-variance . 0.0005726966666666667) (looses q 0.0673 0.0186 0.0842 0.0468 0.0391 0.0183 0.0376 0.0011 0.0435 0.0562 -0.0106 0.0654 0.0498 0.0256 0.0429 0.0223 0.0281 0.0052 0.7931)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.106) (bps q 16 26 39 48 58 70 78 90 103 115 127 138 149 162 173 186 194 203) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0352) (looseness-sd . 0.027648097293495936) (looseness-variance . 0.0007644172839506173) (looses q 0.0283 0.0178 0.0272 0.0468 0.0037 0.0845 0.0954 0.0011 0.0435 0.0562 -0.0106 0.0654 0.0498 0.0256 0.0429 0.0223 0.0281 0.0052 0.7931)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 61) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.0948) (bps q 15 25 37 46 56 69 78 90 103 115 127 138 149 162 173 186 194 203) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0356) (looseness-sd . 0.023931081602524083) (looseness-variance . 0.0005726966666666667) (looses q 0.0673 0.0186 0.0842 0.0468 0.0391 0.0183 0.0376 0.0011 0.0435 0.0562 -0.0106 0.0654 0.0498 0.0256 0.0429 0.0223 0.0281 0.0052 0.7931)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 19) (looseness-spread . 0.0702) (bps q 17 31 47 57 67 81 91 103 118 131 146 160 176 190 205 218 231 245) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0341) (looseness-sd . 0.020612872790840144) (looseness-variance . 0.000424890524691358) (looses q 0.0283 0.0178 0.0272 0.0468 0.0037 0.0038 0.0482 0.0472 0.0175 0.0602 0.0739 0.0654 0.0498 0.0256 0.0429 0.0223 0.0281 0.0052 0.7931)) (fh-improved . 339) (bu-improved . 9) (bh-improved . 15)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0691) (bps q 14 29 45 57 72 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0419) (looseness-sd . 0.021701107242616802) (looseness-variance . 0.0004709380555555555) (looses q 0.0508 0.0367 0.0528 0.0467 0.0667 -0.0024 0.6812)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0691) (bps q 11 22 34 43 56 69) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0419) (looseness-sd . 0.021701107242616802) (looseness-variance . 0.0004709380555555555) (looses q 0.0508 0.0367 0.0528 0.0467 0.0667 -0.0024 0.6812)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0691) (bps q 11 22 34 43 56 69) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0419) (looseness-sd . 0.021701107242616802) (looseness-variance . 0.0004709380555555555) (looses q 0.0508 0.0367 0.0528 0.0467 0.0667 -0.0024 0.6812)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0691) (bps q 14 29 45 57 72 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0419) (looseness-sd . 0.021701107242616802) (looseness-variance . 0.0004709380555555555) (looses q 0.0508 0.0367 0.0528 0.0467 0.0667 -0.0024 0.6812)) (fh-improved . 68) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0682) (bps q 15 28 41 54 70) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0306) (looseness-sd . 0.02645164645159163) (looseness-variance . 0.0006996896000000001) (looses q 0.0626 0.0156 0.0207 -0.0056 0.0596 0.9038)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1357) (bps q 13 22 33 42 52) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0511) (looseness-sd . 0.055031649075781834) (looseness-variance . 0.0030284823999999996) (looses q -0.0133 0.0385 0.1224 0.1076 0.0005 0.8118)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1071) (bps q 12 21 33 42 52) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0511) (looseness-sd . 0.0386781385281143) (looseness-variance . 0.0014959984) (looses q 0.0626 0.0156 0.0694 0.1076 0.0005 0.8118)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.087) (bps q 16 29 41 54 70) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0306) (looseness-sd . 0.034637170785155075) (looseness-variance . 0.0011997336000000001) (looses q -0.0133 0.0385 0.0737 -0.0056 0.0596 0.9038)) (fh-improved . 48) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 60) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1085) (bps q 11 24 37 54 67 81 95 110 124 137 153 167 180 195 209) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0379) (looseness-sd . 0.028191067143098124) (looseness-variance . 0.0007947362666666667) (looses q 0.0766 0.109 0.0496 0.0005 0.0344 0.0011 0.0022 0.021 0.0504 0.0429 0.0273 0.0541 0.0467 0.024 0.029 0.7277)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1217) (bps q 11 22 33 45 55 66 79 91 103 115 131 146 158 170 182) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.049) (looseness-sd . 0.042137360567025973) (looseness-variance . 0.0017755571555555555) (looses q 0.0766 0.109 0.0496 0.0005 0.1112 0.0324 0.0452 0.0342 0.1085 0.0028 0.0156 -0.0105 0.0699 0.0938 -0.0036 0.5876)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 55) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1126) (bps q 11 22 33 44 55 66 79 91 103 115 131 145 157 170 182) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0495) (looseness-sd . 0.032854334400332766) (looseness-variance . 0.001079407288888889) (looses q 0.0766 0.109 0.0496 0.0791 0.0326 0.0324 0.0452 0.0342 0.1085 0.0028 0.0156 0.0351 0.0654 0.0604 -0.0036 0.5876)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1085) (bps q 11 24 37 54 67 81 95 110 124 137 153 167 180 195 209) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0379) (looseness-sd . 0.028191067143098124) (looseness-variance . 0.0007947362666666667) (looses q 0.0766 0.109 0.0496 0.0005 0.0344 0.0011 0.0022 0.021 0.0504 0.0429 0.0273 0.0541 0.0467 0.024 0.029 0.7277)) (fh-improved . 237) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0559) (bps q 14 29 44 58) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0262) (looseness-sd . 0.021489808631069748) (looseness-variance . 0.0004618118749999999) (looses q 0.03 0.0116 0.0036 0.0595 0.8891)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0559) (bps q 11 23 35 48) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0262) (looseness-sd . 0.021489808631069748) (looseness-variance . 0.0004618118749999999) (looses q 0.03 0.0116 0.0036 0.0595 0.8891)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0559) (bps q 11 23 35 48) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0262) (looseness-sd . 0.021489808631069748) (looseness-variance . 0.0004618118749999999) (looses q 0.03 0.0116 0.0036 0.0595 0.8891)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0559) (bps q 14 29 44 58) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0262) (looseness-sd . 0.021489808631069748) (looseness-variance . 0.0004618118749999999) (looses q 0.03 0.0116 0.0036 0.0595 0.8891)) (fh-improved . 28) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little maid should know such changes!”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 53) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0646) (bps q 13 28 42 59 73 88 101 115 129 141 155 170) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0257) (looseness-sd . 0.01845532142469724) (looseness-variance . 0.0003405988888888889) (looses q 0.0296 0.0569 0.0252 0.0102 0.0137 -0.0077 0.0323 0.0205 0.0424 0.0221 0.0559 0.0077 0.4144)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0646) (bps q 10 23 33 49 62 77 89 101 115 127 140 155) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0257) (looseness-sd . 0.01845532142469724) (looseness-variance . 0.0003405988888888889) (looses q 0.0296 0.0569 0.0252 0.0102 0.0137 -0.0077 0.0323 0.0205 0.0424 0.0221 0.0559 0.0077 0.4144)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 50) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0646) (bps q 10 23 33 49 62 77 89 101 115 127 140 155) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0257) (looseness-sd . 0.01845532142469724) (looseness-variance . 0.0003405988888888889) (looses q 0.0296 0.0569 0.0252 0.0102 0.0137 -0.0077 0.0323 0.0205 0.0424 0.0221 0.0559 0.0077 0.4144)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0646) (bps q 13 28 42 59 73 88 101 115 129 141 155 170) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0257) (looseness-sd . 0.01845532142469724) (looseness-variance . 0.0003405988888888889) (looses q 0.0296 0.0569 0.0252 0.0102 0.0137 -0.0077 0.0323 0.0205 0.0424 0.0221 0.0559 0.0077 0.4144)) (fh-improved . 133) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, and he descended into the midst of it.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0738) (bps q 15 29 42 57 72 87 101) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0426) (looseness-sd . 0.02517143667909712) (looseness-variance . 0.0006336012244897959) (looses q 0.068 0.0567 0.0705 0.0374 0.0509 -0.0033 0.0179 0.0916)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1317) (bps q 9 22 33 46 58 71 84) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0426) (looseness-sd . 0.049143999156165796) (looseness-variance . 0.0024151326530612244) (looses q 0.068 0.0037 0.1235 -0.0082 0.0965 -0.0033 0.0179 0.0916)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0738) (bps q 9 21 33 45 58 71 84) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0426) (looseness-sd . 0.02517143667909712) (looseness-variance . 0.0006336012244897959) (looses q 0.068 0.0567 0.0705 0.0374 0.0509 -0.0033 0.0179 0.0916)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0958) (bps q 15 30 43 59 73 88 101) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.038) (looseness-sd . 0.03144014072773199) (looseness-variance . 0.000988482448979592) (looses q 0.068 0.0037 0.0166 0.0234 0.0368 0.0183 0.0995 0.0916)) (fh-improved . 86) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 6)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0405) (bps q 14 28 42 58 72 86 99) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0183) (looseness-sd . 0.01485664834341851) (looseness-variance . 0.00022072) (looses q 0.0355 0.0312 0.0071 -0.005 0.0033 0.0288 0.0272 0.9053)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0405) (bps q 13 27 38 50 64 76 89) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0183) (looseness-sd . 0.01485664834341851) (looseness-variance . 0.00022072) (looses q 0.0355 0.0312 0.0071 -0.005 0.0033 0.0288 0.0272 0.9053)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0405) (bps q 13 27 38 50 64 76 89) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0183) (looseness-sd . 0.01485664834341851) (looseness-variance . 0.00022072) (looses q 0.0355 0.0312 0.0071 -0.005 0.0033 0.0288 0.0272 0.9053)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0405) (bps q 14 28 42 58 72 86 99) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0183) (looseness-sd . 0.01485664834341851) (looseness-variance . 0.00022072) (looses q 0.0355 0.0312 0.0071 -0.005 0.0033 0.0288 0.0272 0.9053)) (fh-improved . 42) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and in the other that of a granary good to feed in.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 71) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.0538) (bps q 13 30 46 58 70 83 96 109 123 137 150 164 177 192 205 220 234 249 265) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0296) (looseness-sd . 0.015937373974299403) (looseness-variance . 0.0002539998891966759) (looses q 0.0125 0.0571 0.0082 0.0332 0.0504 0.0148 0.0391 0.0277 0.0491 0.0182 0.0353 0.0473 0.0435 0.0033 0.0217 0.0053 0.0361 0.0376 0.0218 0.8553)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 49) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.1296) (bps q 11 23 34 46 55 66 79 88 100 110 120 130 142 154 167 179 189 201 216) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0407) (looseness-sd . 0.035347136452641564) (looseness-variance . 0.001249420055401662) (looses q 0.0125 0.0571 0.0082 0.0332 0.0504 0.0148 0.0391 0.0277 0.0491 0.0182 0.0353 0.1378 0.0519 0.0548 0.0289 0.0103 0.1258 0.0083 0.0105 0.6467)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 63) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.085) (bps q 11 23 34 46 55 65 77 87 99 109 119 130 142 153 166 178 189 201 216) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0423) (looseness-sd . 0.02690398749137919) (looseness-variance . 0.000723824542936288) (looses q 0.0125 0.0571 0.0082 0.0332 0.0504 0.0878 0.0932 0.0484 0.0204 0.0217 0.0448 0.0363 0.0519 0.0798 0.0683 0.061 0.0107 0.0083 0.0105 0.6467)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 20) (looseness-spread . 0.0579) (bps q 13 30 46 58 70 83 96 109 123 137 150 164 178 192 205 220 234 249 265) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0296) (looseness-sd . 0.016526307408646888) (looseness-variance . 0.00027311883656509696) (looses q 0.0125 0.0571 0.0082 0.0332 0.0504 0.0148 0.0391 0.0277 0.0491 0.0182 0.0353 0.0473 -0.0008 0.0476 0.0217 0.0053 0.0361 0.0376 0.0218 0.8553)) (fh-improved . 512) (bu-improved . 10) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0839) (bps q 12 26 39 52 67) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0371) (looseness-sd . 0.029370938017026286) (looseness-variance . 0.0008626519999999999) (looses q 0.0472 0.0179 0.0261 0.0891 0.0052 0.8707)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0839) (bps q 11 23 35 44 55) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0371) (looseness-sd . 0.029370938017026286) (looseness-variance . 0.0008626519999999999) (looses q 0.0472 0.0179 0.0261 0.0891 0.0052 0.8707)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0839) (bps q 11 23 35 44 55) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0371) (looseness-sd . 0.029370938017026286) (looseness-variance . 0.0008626519999999999) (looses q 0.0472 0.0179 0.0261 0.0891 0.0052 0.8707)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0839) (bps q 12 26 39 52 67) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0371) (looseness-sd . 0.029370938017026286) (looseness-variance . 0.0008626519999999999) (looses q 0.0472 0.0179 0.0261 0.0891 0.0052 0.8707)) (fh-improved . 28) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0435) (bps q 13 24 40 51 65 79 93) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0197) (looseness-sd . 0.014616205711050836) (looseness-variance . 0.0002136334693877551) (looses q 0.0105 0.0082 -0.0042 0.0393 0.0243 0.0228 0.0368 0.6501)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0435) (bps q 13 22 36 47 58 71 84) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0197) (looseness-sd . 0.014616205711050836) (looseness-variance . 0.0002136334693877551) (looses q 0.0105 0.0082 -0.0042 0.0393 0.0243 0.0228 0.0368 0.6501)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0435) (bps q 13 22 36 47 58 71 84) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0197) (looseness-sd . 0.014616205711050836) (looseness-variance . 0.0002136334693877551) (looses q 0.0105 0.0082 -0.0042 0.0393 0.0243 0.0228 0.0368 0.6501)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0435) (bps q 13 24 40 51 65 79 93) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0197) (looseness-sd . 0.014616205711050836) (looseness-variance . 0.0002136334693877551) (looses q 0.0105 0.0082 -0.0042 0.0393 0.0243 0.0228 0.0368 0.6501)) (fh-improved . 34) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a good meal!”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.051) (bps q 11 23 37) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0397) (looseness-sd . 0.021073205736194957) (looseness-variance . 0.00044407999999999996) (looses q 0.0629 0.0119 0.0443 0.648)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.051) (bps q 10 21 34) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0397) (looseness-sd . 0.021073205736194957) (looseness-variance . 0.00044407999999999996) (looses q 0.0629 0.0119 0.0443 0.648)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.051) (bps q 10 21 34) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0397) (looseness-sd . 0.021073205736194957) (looseness-variance . 0.00044407999999999996) (looses q 0.0629 0.0119 0.0443 0.648)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.051) (bps q 11 23 37) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0397) (looseness-sd . 0.021073205736194957) (looseness-variance . 0.00044407999999999996) (looses q 0.0629 0.0119 0.0443 0.648)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much resembled his own.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0282) (bps q 13 25 38) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.037) (looseness-sd . 0.012174563647211346) (looseness-variance . 0.00014822000000000004) (looses q 0.0314 0.0539 0.0257 0.6186)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0779) (bps q 13 24 36) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.037) (looseness-sd . 0.03204521111735037) (looseness-variance . 0.0010268955555555557) (looses q 0.0314 0.0008 0.0787 0.6186)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0282) (bps q 13 23 36) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.037) (looseness-sd . 0.012174563647211346) (looseness-variance . 0.00014822000000000004) (looses q 0.0314 0.0539 0.0257 0.6186)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0779) (bps q 13 26 38) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.037) (looseness-sd . 0.03204521111735037) (looseness-variance . 0.0010268955555555557) (looses q 0.0314 0.0008 0.0787 0.6186)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the clacker swinging in his hand.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0406) (bps q 13 27 42 55 67 79 94 107) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0453) (looseness-sd . 0.013308497050756707) (looseness-variance . 0.00017711609374999998) (looses q 0.0359 0.0623 0.0493 0.0579 0.0325 0.0217 0.0454 0.0573 0.0633)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1622) (bps q 14 25 38 48 59 69 80 91) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0466) (looseness-sd . 0.05466918550472469) (looseness-variance . 0.00298871984375) (looses q 0.0109 0.0483 -0.008 0.1542 0.0325 0.1166 -0.0005 0.0191 0.0633)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0909) (bps q 13 24 37 48 58 69 80 91) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0467) (looseness-sd . 0.026310359176567696) (looseness-variance . 0.0006922349999999999) (looses q 0.0359 0.0623 0.0493 0.0579 0.0904 0.0588 -0.0005 0.0191 0.0633)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1622) (bps q 14 28 43 55 67 79 94 107) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0453) (looseness-sd . 0.045767440323334664) (looseness-variance . 0.00209465859375) (looses q 0.0109 0.0483 -0.008 0.1542 0.0325 0.0217 0.0454 0.0573 0.0633)) (fh-improved . 63) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1332) (bps q 12 23 35 48 63) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0671) (looseness-sd . 0.04567537629839518) (looseness-variance . 0.00208624) (looses q 0.1301 0.0985 0.0663 0.0437 -0.0031 0.8591)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1332) (bps q 12 24 36 45 58) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0648) (looseness-sd . 0.051348285268351467) (looseness-variance . 0.0026366464) (looses q 0.1301 0.0132 0.0821 0.1015 -0.0031 0.8591)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1332) (bps q 12 23 35 45 58) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0671) (looseness-sd . 0.04567537629839518) (looseness-variance . 0.00208624) (looses q 0.1301 0.0985 0.0663 0.0437 -0.0031 0.8591)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1332) (bps q 12 24 36 48 63) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0648) (looseness-sd . 0.051348285268351467) (looseness-variance . 0.0026366464) (looses q 0.1301 0.0132 0.0821 0.1015 -0.0031 0.8591)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1273) (bps q 10 22 34 49 62) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0472) (looseness-sd . 0.040781152509462015) (looseness-variance . 0.0016631023999999998) (looses q 0.1166 0.0409 0.0377 0.0513 -0.0107 0.762)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1206) (bps q 8 20 32 46 57) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0493) (looseness-sd . 0.04075897937878229) (looseness-variance . 0.0016612944000000001) (looses q 0.1166 -0.004 0.0462 0.0231 0.0648 0.762)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1206) (bps q 8 20 32 46 57) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0493) (looseness-sd . 0.04075897937878229) (looseness-variance . 0.0016612944000000001) (looses q 0.1166 -0.004 0.0462 0.0231 0.0648 0.762)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1206) (bps q 10 23 35 50 62) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0493) (looseness-sd . 0.04075897937878229) (looseness-variance . 0.0016612944000000001) (looses q 0.1166 -0.004 0.0462 0.0231 0.0648 0.762)) (fh-improved . 17) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 40) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0527) (bps q 11 27 41 55 70 84 99) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0351) (looseness-sd . 0.01967609136562878) (looseness-variance . 0.0003871485714285715) (looses q 0.0604 0.0077 0.0563 0.0312 0.0341 0.0086 0.0474 0.1467)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1441) (bps q 11 22 33 45 58 72 85) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0367) (looseness-sd . 0.04564817094040113) (looseness-variance . 0.0020837555102040817) (looses q 0.0604 0.0077 0.1333 0.0104 -0.0108 0.0086 0.0474 0.1467)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1192) (bps q 10 21 33 45 58 72 85) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0379) (looseness-sd . 0.04177677804323198) (looseness-variance . 0.0017452991836734695) (looses q 0.1084 0.0883 0.0128 0.0104 -0.0108 0.0086 0.0474 0.1467)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0527) (bps q 11 27 42 55 70 84 99) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0351) (looseness-sd . 0.02034516439564238) (looseness-variance . 0.0004139257142857143) (looses q 0.0604 0.0077 0.0279 0.0596 0.0341 0.0086 0.0474 0.1467)) (fh-improved . 62) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0509) (bps q 14 28 40 56 70 84 95 108) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0311) (looseness-sd . 0.01527775650251044) (looseness-variance . 0.00023340984375) (looses q 0.032 0.042 0.0117 0.0601 0.0348 0.0256 0.0337 0.0092 0.4709)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0644) (bps q 9 22 32 46 55 65 76 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0266) (looseness-sd . 0.02258098965391021) (looseness-variance . 0.00050990109375) (looses q 0.032 -0.0036 0.0573 0.0212 -0.0059 0.0335 0.0585 0.0199 0.5099)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0644) (bps q 9 21 32 46 55 65 76 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0266) (looseness-sd . 0.018316142982353026) (looseness-variance . 0.00033548109375) (looses q 0.032 0.042 0.0117 0.0212 -0.0059 0.0335 0.0585 0.0199 0.5099)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0644) (bps q 14 29 40 57 72 85 96 109) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0266) (looseness-sd . 0.02258098965391021) (looseness-variance . 0.00050990109375) (looses q 0.032 -0.0036 0.0573 0.0212 -0.0059 0.0335 0.0585 0.0199 0.5099)) (fh-improved . 111) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 7)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and never let him see him in one of those fields again.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0302) (bps q 11 27 42) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0283) (looseness-sd . 0.012704155050831029) (looseness-variance . 0.00016139555555555555) (looses q 0.0326 0.011 0.0412 0.0985)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1471) (bps q 9 21 34) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0599) (looseness-sd . 0.06808427783922577) (looseness-variance . 0.004635468888888889) (looses q 0.1561 0.009 0.0145 0.0145)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1471) (bps q 9 21 34) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0599) (looseness-sd . 0.06808427783922577) (looseness-variance . 0.004635468888888889) (looses q 0.1561 0.009 0.0145 0.0145)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0302) (bps q 11 27 42) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0283) (looseness-sd . 0.012704155050831029) (looseness-variance . 0.00016139555555555555) (looses q 0.0326 0.011 0.0412 0.0985)) (fh-improved . 16) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0606) (bps q 12 24 40 53 66 82) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0251) (looseness-sd . 0.0186572074247163) (looseness-variance . 0.00034809138888888894) (looses q 0.0512 0.0314 -0.0094 0.0365 0.0189 0.0221 0.68)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0606) (bps q 11 22 34 46 57 72) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0251) (looseness-sd . 0.0186572074247163) (looseness-variance . 0.00034809138888888894) (looses q 0.0512 0.0314 -0.0094 0.0365 0.0189 0.0221 0.68)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0606) (bps q 11 22 34 46 57 72) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0251) (looseness-sd . 0.0186572074247163) (looseness-variance . 0.00034809138888888894) (looses q 0.0512 0.0314 -0.0094 0.0365 0.0189 0.0221 0.68)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0606) (bps q 12 24 40 53 66 82) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0251) (looseness-sd . 0.0186572074247163) (looseness-variance . 0.00034809138888888894) (looses q 0.0512 0.0314 -0.0094 0.0365 0.0189 0.0221 0.68)) (fh-improved . 35) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them at each tread.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0783) (bps q 15 29 42 56 69 85) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0313) (looseness-sd . 0.02550159581063289) (looseness-variance . 0.000650331388888889) (looses q 0.0212 0.0349 0.0547 -0.0098 0.0685 0.0184 0.5312)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1244) (bps q 14 25 37 48 61 71) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0492) (looseness-sd . 0.03954506571270583) (looseness-variance . 0.001563812222222222) (looses q 0.0212 0.0349 -0.0097 0.0654 0.0685 0.1147 0.4458)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0746) (bps q 13 24 36 47 60 71) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0492) (looseness-sd . 0.025296091046290575) (looseness-variance . 0.0006398922222222223) (looses q 0.0593 0.0217 0.0963 0.0295 0.0314 0.0568 0.4458)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0782) (bps q 15 29 43 56 69 85) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0331) (looseness-sd . 0.02735333109919562) (looseness-variance . 0.0007482047222222223) (looses q 0.0212 0.0349 -0.0097 0.0654 0.0685 0.0184 0.5312)) (fh-improved . 41) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0698) (bps q 12 25 40 54 68 82 97 114 129 144 158 171) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.034) (looseness-sd . 0.020647329663233023) (looseness-variance . 0.00042631222222222227) (looses q 0.0339 0.0514 0.0026 0.0353 0.0394 0.0082 0.0241 0.0046 0.0326 0.0577 0.0454 0.0724 0.5885)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1036) (bps q 12 23 36 47 58 72 84 96 109 123 134 146) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0513) (looseness-sd . 0.03383962995594892) (looseness-variance . 0.0011451205555555557) (looses q 0.0339 0.0514 0.0026 0.1062 0.0626 0.0093 0.0567 0.0971 0.049 0.1005 0.0237 0.0222 0.3866)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 47) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0503) (bps q 12 23 35 47 58 71 83 95 108 123 134 146) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.052) (looseness-sd . 0.016631170534070455) (looseness-variance . 0.0002765958333333333) (looses q 0.0339 0.0514 0.0604 0.0484 0.0626 0.0725 0.0661 0.0717 0.049 0.0615 0.0237 0.0222 0.3866)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0807) (bps q 12 25 40 55 69 83 99 115 129 144 158 171) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0347) (looseness-sd . 0.023679156035542222) (looseness-variance . 0.0005607024305555557) (looses q 0.0339 0.0514 0.0026 0.0255 -0.0083 0.0187 0.016 0.0375 0.0631 0.0577 0.0454 0.0724 0.5885)) (fh-improved . 160) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 6)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0577) (bps q 17 31 47) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0263) (looseness-sd . 0.02416641379178043) (looseness-variance . 0.0005840155555555555) (looses q 0.0013 0.0187 0.059 0.9245)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0577) (bps q 14 26 40) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0263) (looseness-sd . 0.02416641379178043) (looseness-variance . 0.0005840155555555555) (looses q 0.0013 0.0187 0.059 0.9245)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0577) (bps q 14 26 40) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0263) (looseness-sd . 0.02416641379178043) (looseness-variance . 0.0005840155555555555) (looses q 0.0013 0.0187 0.059 0.9245)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0577) (bps q 17 31 47) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0263) (looseness-sd . 0.02416641379178043) (looseness-variance . 0.0005840155555555555) (looses q 0.0013 0.0187 0.059 0.9245)) (fh-improved . 15) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0346) (bps q 12 26) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0355) (looseness-sd . 0.0173) (looseness-variance . 0.00029929) (looses q 0.0182 0.0528 0.8576)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0346) (bps q 12 25) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0355) (looseness-sd . 0.0173) (looseness-variance . 0.00029929) (looses q 0.0182 0.0528 0.8576)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0346) (bps q 12 25) (piece-count . 27) (avg-piece-length . 21.06374074074074) (avg-looseness . 0.0355) (looseness-sd . 0.0173) (looseness-variance . 0.00029929) (looses q 0.0182 0.0528 0.8576)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 3) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0346) (bps q 12 26) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 20.311464285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0355) (looseness-sd . 0.0173) (looseness-variance . 0.00029929) (looses q 0.0182 0.0528 0.8576)) (fh-improved . 1) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of mischty.”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0987) (bps q 12 27 40 53 67 80 94 108 124) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0257) (looseness-sd . 0.035122192344182165) (looseness-variance . 0.0012335683950617283) (looses q 0.0953 0.0016 -0.0034 0.0021 0.0099 0.0417 0.0775 0.0092 -0.0028 0.5377)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0987) (bps q 10 24 36 49 62 75 88 98 114) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0244) (looseness-sd . 0.03345864593276783) (looseness-variance . 0.0011194809876543211) (looses q 0.0953 0.0016 -0.0034 0.0021 0.0099 0.0207 0.0238 0.0723 -0.0028 0.5377)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0987) (bps q 10 24 36 49 62 74 87 98 114) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0257) (looseness-sd . 0.035122192344182165) (looseness-variance . 0.0012335683950617283) (looses q 0.0953 0.0016 -0.0034 0.0021 0.0099 0.0417 0.0775 0.0092 -0.0028 0.5377)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0987) (bps q 12 27 40 53 67 81 95 108 124) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0244) (looseness-sd . 0.03345864593276783) (looseness-variance . 0.0011194809876543211) (looses q 0.0953 0.0016 -0.0034 0.0021 0.0099 0.0207 0.0238 0.0723 -0.0028 0.5377)) (fh-improved . 51) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, and only secondarily from a moral one.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0315) (bps q 13 29) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0285) (looseness-sd . 0.015750000000000004) (looseness-variance . 0.0002480625000000001) (looses q 0.0442 0.0127 0.3267)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0733) (bps q 12 23) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0285) (looseness-sd . 0.03665) (looseness-variance . 0.0013432225000000002) (looses q -0.0082 0.0651 0.3267)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0315) (bps q 11 23) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0285) (looseness-sd . 0.015750000000000004) (looseness-variance . 0.0002480625000000001) (looses q 0.0442 0.0127 0.3267)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0733) (bps q 14 29) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0285) (looseness-sd . 0.03665) (looseness-variance . 0.0013432225000000002) (looses q -0.0082 0.0651 0.3267)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy side of the family, and never will be!”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1603) (bps q 11 22 37 49) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0534) (looseness-sd . 0.06308361514688263) (looseness-variance . 0.0039795425) (looses q 0.161 0.0306 0.0211 0.0007 0.1055)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1717) (bps q 11 22 32 41 54) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0889) (looseness-sd . 0.07146869524484128) (looseness-variance . 0.005107774399999999) (looses q 0.161 0.0306 0.1891 0.0174 0.0466 0.885)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1436) (bps q 11 21 32 41 54) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.089) (looseness-sd . 0.05131520632327225) (looseness-variance . 0.0026332504000000003) (looses q 0.161 0.1195 0.1003 0.0174 0.0466 0.885)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1603) (bps q 11 22 37 49) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0534) (looseness-sd . 0.06308361514688263) (looseness-variance . 0.0039795425) (looses q 0.161 0.0306 0.0211 0.0007 0.1055)) (fh-improved . 13) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0513) (bps q 13 28) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0673) (looseness-sd . 0.02565) (looseness-variance . 0.0006579225) (looses q 0.093 0.0417 0.0925)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0513) (bps q 11 26) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0673) (looseness-sd . 0.02565) (looseness-variance . 0.0006579225) (looses q 0.093 0.0417 0.0925)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0513) (bps q 11 26) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0673) (looseness-sd . 0.02565) (looseness-variance . 0.0006579225) (looses q 0.093 0.0417 0.0925)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0513) (bps q 13 28) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0673) (looseness-sd . 0.02565) (looseness-variance . 0.0006579225) (looses q 0.093 0.0417 0.0925)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor folk in Christminster with we.”") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0369) (bps q 12 26) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0444) (looseness-sd . 0.018449999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.00034040249999999997) (looses q 0.0629 0.026 0.3469)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0711) (bps q 11 23) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0985) (looseness-sd . 0.035550000000000005) (looseness-variance . 0.0012638025000000002) (looses q 0.0629 0.134 0.2498)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0443) (bps q 10 23) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0985) (looseness-sd . 0.022149999999999996) (looseness-variance . 0.0004906224999999998) (looses q 0.1206 0.0763 0.2498)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0369) (bps q 12 26) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0444) (looseness-sd . 0.018449999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.00034040249999999997) (looses q 0.0629 0.026 0.3469)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0621) (bps q 15 30 43 57 69 82 96 109 123 136 152 169 184 198 212) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0364) (looseness-sd . 0.015724370328322284) (looseness-variance . 0.0002472558222222222) (looses q 0.0203 0.0404 0.0407 0.0667 0.0447 0.0481 0.0562 0.0207 0.0178 0.036 0.0446 0.0266 0.0322 0.0046 0.0471 0.5846)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1475) (bps q 13 26 38 50 62 71 79 91 103 112 126 140 152 162 173) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0645) (looseness-sd . 0.04723363867226642) (looseness-variance . 0.002231016622222222) (looses q 0.0203 0.0404 0.1582 0.0235 0.0718 0.1314 0.0107 0.0601 0.1382 0.094 0.011 0.017 0.0377 0.0938 0.059 0.1996)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 58) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1085) (bps q 12 25 38 49 61 71 79 90 102 112 126 140 152 162 173) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.064) (looseness-sd . 0.03332962246010796) (looseness-variance . 0.0011108637333333332) (looses q 0.0652 0.0784 0.0753 0.0559 0.0895 0.0736 0.0107 0.1181 0.1192 0.055 0.011 0.017 0.0377 0.0938 0.059 0.1996)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0855) (bps q 15 30 43 57 69 82 96 109 123 136 153 170 184 198 212) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0377) (looseness-sd . 0.02212495423724081) (looseness-variance . 0.0004895136) (looses q 0.0203 0.0404 0.0407 0.0667 0.0447 0.0481 0.0562 0.0207 0.0178 0.036 0.0078 0.0246 0.0901 0.0046 0.0471 0.5846)) (fh-improved . 279) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0564) (bps q 14 29 43 56) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0298) (looseness-sd . 0.023360543658057276) (looseness-variance . 0.000545715) (looses q 0.0039 0.0106 0.0603 0.0444 0.8311)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 69) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1485) (bps q 11 23 35 45) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.0568) (looseness-sd . 0.05933898381334147) (looseness-variance . 0.0035211150000000004) (looses q 0.0039 0.0106 0.0603 0.1524 0.7339)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 57) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1024) (bps q 10 21 33 45) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.0568) (looseness-sd . 0.03680885593169122) (looseness-variance . 0.0013548918749999998) (looses q 0.1146 0.0509 0.0494 0.0122 0.7339)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0564) (bps q 14 29 43 56) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0298) (looseness-sd . 0.023360543658057276) (looseness-variance . 0.000545715) (looses q 0.0039 0.0106 0.0603 0.0444 0.8311)) (fh-improved . 28) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak open down.") (measure . 300) (bh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0851) (bps q 12 26 39 52 66 80 95 110 124 137 151) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0325) (looseness-sd . 0.02674887500530792) (looseness-variance . 0.0007155023140495868) (looses q 0.0614 0.0326 0.004 0.0214 0.0864 0.0679 0.0228 0.0013 0.0341 0.0189 0.0063 0.4568)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 53) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0931) (bps q 11 22 31 41 56 68 80 89 101 113 125) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0401) (looseness-sd . 0.032753926015387645) (looseness-variance . 0.0010728196694214877) (looses q 0.0096 0.0844 0.004 0.0214 0.0109 0.0404 0.0386 0.0885 0.0341 0.0971 0.0123 0.3919)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0958) (bps q 10 22 31 41 55 67 79 89 101 113 125) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0401) (looseness-sd . 0.03153920556392164) (looseness-variance . 0.0009947214876033059) (looses q 0.0614 0.0326 0.004 0.0214 0.0864 0.0679 0.0228 0.0013 0.0341 0.0971 0.0123 0.3919)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0845) (bps q 13 26 39 52 67 82 96 110 124 137 151) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0325) (looseness-sd . 0.02817091577971452) (looseness-variance . 0.0007936004958677686) (looses q 0.0096 0.0844 0.004 0.0214 0.0109 0.0404 0.0386 0.0885 0.0341 0.0189 0.0063 0.4568)) (fh-improved . 160) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in moving house.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0445) (bps q 15 29 46 63 77 94 111 128 143 162) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0144) (looseness-sd . 0.013808634979606058) (looseness-variance . 0.0001906784) (looses q 0.0181 0.0106 0.0337 0.0033 0.0107 0.0403 0.0231 0.0095 -0.0015 -0.0042 0.623)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0545) (bps q 10 23 37 49 60 72 87 98 110 123) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0144) (looseness-sd . 0.015894099534103843) (looseness-variance . 0.0002526224) (looses q 0.0181 0.0106 0.0337 0.0033 0.0107 0.0049 0.0177 0.0503 -0.0015 -0.0042 0.623)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0445) (bps q 10 23 37 49 60 71 86 98 110 123) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0144) (looseness-sd . 0.013808634979606058) (looseness-variance . 0.0001906784) (looses q 0.0181 0.0106 0.0337 0.0033 0.0107 0.0403 0.0231 0.0095 -0.0015 -0.0042 0.623)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0545) (bps q 15 29 46 63 77 95 112 128 143 162) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0144) (looseness-sd . 0.015894099534103843) (looseness-variance . 0.0002526224) (looses q 0.0181 0.0106 0.0337 0.0033 0.0107 0.0049 0.0177 0.0503 -0.0015 -0.0042 0.623)) (fh-improved . 201) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and everything would be smooth again.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0542) (bps q 17 31 44) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.017) (looseness-sd . 0.02251256439314623) (looseness-variance . 0.0005068155555555555) (looses q -0.0072 0.047 0.0111 0.7728)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0542) (bps q 15 29 40) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.017) (looseness-sd . 0.02251256439314623) (looseness-variance . 0.0005068155555555555) (looses q -0.0072 0.047 0.0111 0.7728)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0542) (bps q 15 29 40) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.017) (looseness-sd . 0.02251256439314623) (looseness-variance . 0.0005068155555555555) (looses q -0.0072 0.047 0.0111 0.7728)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0542) (bps q 17 31 44) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.017) (looseness-sd . 0.02251256439314623) (looseness-variance . 0.0005068155555555555) (looses q -0.0072 0.047 0.0111 0.7728)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary lodgings just at first.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0742) (bps q 14 30 46 63) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0324) (looseness-sd . 0.027954427198567316) (looseness-variance . 0.00078145) (looses q 0.0635 -0.0107 0.0491 0.0277 0.027)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0742) (bps q 10 21 36 51) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0324) (looseness-sd . 0.027954427198567316) (looseness-variance . 0.00078145) (looses q 0.0635 -0.0107 0.0491 0.0277 0.027)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0742) (bps q 10 21 36 51) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0324) (looseness-sd . 0.027954427198567316) (looseness-variance . 0.00078145) (looses q 0.0635 -0.0107 0.0491 0.0277 0.027)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0742) (bps q 14 30 46 63) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0324) (looseness-sd . 0.027954427198567316) (looseness-variance . 0.00078145) (looses q 0.0635 -0.0107 0.0491 0.0277 0.027)) (fh-improved . 35) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve found a place to settle in, sir.”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.022) (bps q 16 30 46 61) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0391) (looseness-sd . 0.00832867786626425) (looseness-variance . 6.936687500000001e-05) (looses q 0.0383 0.0442 0.026 0.048 0.8299)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1105) (bps q 12 25 40 54) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.05) (looseness-sd . 0.0431065177786376) (looseness-variance . 0.001858171875) (looses q 0.1119 0.0674 0.0014 0.0194 0.7945)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1105) (bps q 12 25 40 54) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.05) (looseness-sd . 0.0431065177786376) (looseness-variance . 0.001858171875) (looses q 0.1119 0.0674 0.0014 0.0194 0.7945)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0812) (bps q 16 31 46 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0284) (looseness-sd . 0.033513989616278154) (looseness-variance . 0.0011231875) (looses q 0.0383 -0.0015 0.0791 -0.0021 0.8702)) (fh-improved . 24) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy and the schoolmaster were left standing alone.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0406) (bps q 16 32 46 64) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0536) (looseness-sd . 0.014697363709182678) (looseness-variance . 0.0002160125) (looses q 0.0708 0.0302 0.0565 0.0571 0.4755)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0631) (bps q 14 27 40 52) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0536) (looseness-sd . 0.022535014422005593) (looseness-variance . 0.000507826875) (looses q 0.0189 0.082 0.0565 0.0571 0.4755)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0406) (bps q 13 27 40 52) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0536) (looseness-sd . 0.014697363709182678) (looseness-variance . 0.0002160125) (looses q 0.0708 0.0302 0.0565 0.0571 0.4755)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0631) (bps q 17 32 46 64) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0536) (looseness-sd . 0.022535014422005593) (looseness-variance . 0.000507826875) (looses q 0.0189 0.082 0.0565 0.0571 0.4755)) (fh-improved . 26) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, but one who had attended the night school only during the present teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0645) (bps q 16 32 45 62 78) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.021) (looseness-sd . 0.02434884802203176) (looseness-variance . 0.0005928664) (looses q 0.0607 0.0118 -0.0038 0.0366 -0.0001 0.5065)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0645) (bps q 14 24 36 50 61) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.021) (looseness-sd . 0.02434884802203176) (looseness-variance . 0.0005928664) (looses q 0.0607 0.0118 -0.0038 0.0366 -0.0001 0.5065)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0645) (bps q 14 24 36 50 61) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.021) (looseness-sd . 0.02434884802203176) (looseness-variance . 0.0005928664) (looses q 0.0607 0.0118 -0.0038 0.0366 -0.0001 0.5065)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0645) (bps q 16 32 45 62 78) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.021) (looseness-sd . 0.02434884802203176) (looseness-variance . 0.0005928664) (looses q 0.0607 0.0118 -0.0038 0.0366 -0.0001 0.5065)) (fh-improved . 48) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that he was sorry.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0352) (bps q 14 30) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0484) (looseness-sd . 0.0176) (looseness-variance . 0.00030976000000000007) (looses q 0.066 0.0308 0.8675)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0352) (bps q 13 26) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0484) (looseness-sd . 0.0176) (looseness-variance . 0.00030976000000000007) (looses q 0.066 0.0308 0.8675)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0352) (bps q 13 26) (piece-count . 28) (avg-piece-length . 21.99416071428572) (avg-looseness . 0.0484) (looseness-sd . 0.0176) (looseness-variance . 0.00030976000000000007) (looses q 0.066 0.0308 0.8675)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0352) (bps q 14 30) (piece-count . 32) (avg-piece-length . 19.244890625000004) (avg-looseness . 0.0484) (looseness-sd . 0.0176) (looseness-variance . 0.00030976000000000007) (looses q 0.066 0.0308 0.8675)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should have elsewhere.”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0626) (bps q 15 34 52 69 87 106) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0281) (looseness-sd . 0.01938057446688995) (looseness-variance . 0.0003756066666666667) (looses q 0.0383 -0.0046 0.0358 0.0231 0.018 0.058 0.2431)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0928) (bps q 12 26 40 53 68 83) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0298) (looseness-sd . 0.031030777732223642) (looseness-variance . 0.0009629091666666667) (looses q 0.0383 -0.0046 0.0358 0.0231 0.0882 -0.0023 0.2431)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 38) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0726) (bps q 12 26 40 52 68 83) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.031) (looseness-sd . 0.026500377355803822) (looseness-variance . 0.0007022700000000001) (looses q 0.0383 -0.0046 0.0358 0.068 0.0508 -0.0023 0.2431)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0827) (bps q 15 34 52 69 88 106) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0281) (looseness-sd . 0.027879587315612995) (looseness-variance . 0.0007772713888888889) (looses q 0.0383 -0.0046 0.0358 0.0231 -0.002 0.0781 0.2431)) (fh-improved . 82) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0288) (bps q 14 31 46 60) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0208) (looseness-sd . 0.011459821115532301) (looseness-variance . 0.0001313275) (looses q 0.0245 0.0275 0.0013 0.0301 0.4119)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0288) (bps q 11 23 35 47) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0208) (looseness-sd . 0.011459821115532301) (looseness-variance . 0.0001313275) (looses q 0.0245 0.0275 0.0013 0.0301 0.4119)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0288) (bps q 11 23 35 47) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0208) (looseness-sd . 0.011459821115532301) (looseness-variance . 0.0001313275) (looses q 0.0245 0.0275 0.0013 0.0301 0.4119)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0288) (bps q 14 31 46 60) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0208) (looseness-sd . 0.011459821115532301) (looseness-variance . 0.0001313275) (looses q 0.0245 0.0275 0.0013 0.0301 0.4119)) (fh-improved . 35) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0056) (bps q 15 29) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.004) (looseness-sd . 0.0028) (looseness-variance . 7.84e-06) (looses q 0.0012 0.0068 0.5862)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0056) (bps q 13 24) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.004) (looseness-sd . 0.0028) (looseness-variance . 7.84e-06) (looses q 0.0012 0.0068 0.5862)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0056) (bps q 13 24) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.004) (looseness-sd . 0.0028) (looseness-variance . 7.84e-06) (looses q 0.0012 0.0068 0.5862)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0056) (bps q 15 29) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.004) (looseness-sd . 0.0028) (looseness-variance . 7.84e-06) (looses q 0.0012 0.0068 0.5862)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. “Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt me out for old acquaintance’ sake.”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0358) (bps q 16 33 49) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0115) (looseness-sd . 0.014648776968288741) (looseness-variance . 0.00021458666666666668) (looses q 0.0287 -0.0071 0.0129 0.6289)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0358) (bps q 14 29 42) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0115) (looseness-sd . 0.014648776968288741) (looseness-variance . 0.00021458666666666668) (looses q 0.0287 -0.0071 0.0129 0.6289)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0358) (bps q 14 29 42) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0115) (looseness-sd . 0.014648776968288741) (looseness-variance . 0.00021458666666666668) (looses q 0.0287 -0.0071 0.0129 0.6289)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0358) (bps q 16 33 49) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0115) (looseness-sd . 0.014648776968288741) (looseness-variance . 0.00021458666666666668) (looses q 0.0287 -0.0071 0.0129 0.6289)) (fh-improved . 13) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the hart’s-tongue fern.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0533) (bps q 14 30 45 61 77 92 109 125 141 162 178) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0147) (looseness-sd . 0.015631045607279747) (looseness-variance . 0.00024432958677685947) (looses q 0.046 0.0271 0.0158 0.0086 0.0061 -0.0053 0.0067 -0.0073 0.0348 0.0081 0.0215 0.5369)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0757) (bps q 12 27 40 55 68 80 94 109 121 135 149) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0147) (looseness-sd . 0.020265648988513046) (looseness-variance . 0.00041069652892561983) (looses q 0.0057 0.0147 0.0684 0.0086 0.0061 -0.0053 0.0067 -0.0073 0.0348 0.0081 0.0215 0.5369)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0533) (bps q 11 26 40 55 68 80 94 109 121 135 149) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0147) (looseness-sd . 0.015631045607279747) (looseness-variance . 0.00024432958677685947) (looses q 0.046 0.0271 0.0158 0.0086 0.0061 -0.0053 0.0067 -0.0073 0.0348 0.0081 0.0215 0.5369)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0757) (bps q 15 31 45 61 77 92 109 125 141 162 178) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0147) (looseness-sd . 0.020265648988513046) (looseness-variance . 0.00041069652892561983) (looses q 0.0057 0.0147 0.0684 0.0086 0.0061 -0.0053 0.0067 -0.0073 0.0348 0.0081 0.0215 0.5369)) (fh-improved . 146) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place like this!”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0307) (bps q 18 34 47 64 81) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.011234162185049672) (looseness-variance . 0.00012620640000000002) (looses q 0.0358 0.042 0.058 0.0282 0.0273 0.1544)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0307) (bps q 13 26 39 55 69) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.011234162185049672) (looseness-variance . 0.00012620640000000002) (looses q 0.0358 0.042 0.058 0.0282 0.0273 0.1544)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0307) (bps q 13 26 39 55 69) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.011234162185049672) (looseness-variance . 0.00012620640000000002) (looses q 0.0358 0.042 0.058 0.0282 0.0273 0.1544)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0307) (bps q 18 34 47 64 81) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.011234162185049672) (looseness-variance . 0.00012620640000000002) (looses q 0.0358 0.042 0.058 0.0282 0.0273 0.1544)) (fh-improved . 42) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry:") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0517) (bps q 16 31 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0346) (looseness-sd . 0.02427788202367652) (looseness-variance . 0.0005894155555555556) (looses q 0.0172 0.0689 0.0176 0.9075)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1023) (bps q 16 29 41) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0346) (looseness-sd . 0.044608245376337716) (looseness-variance . 0.0019898955555555553) (looses q -0.0055 0.0124 0.0968 0.9075)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0517) (bps q 15 28 41) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0346) (looseness-sd . 0.02427788202367652) (looseness-variance . 0.0005894155555555556) (looses q 0.0172 0.0689 0.0176 0.9075)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1023) (bps q 17 32 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0346) (looseness-sd . 0.044608245376337716) (looseness-variance . 0.0019898955555555553) (looses q -0.0055 0.0124 0.0968 0.9075)) (fh-improved . 9) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0531) (bps q 13 29 45 61 74 86) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0117) (looseness-sd . 0.0174914899943436) (looseness-variance . 0.0003059522222222223) (looses q 0.0454 0.0174 0.0098 -0.0077 -0.0052 0.0103 0.2124)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0777) (bps q 14 27 42 57 69 81) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0117) (looseness-sd . 0.02715275717532609) (looseness-variance . 0.0007372722222222225) (looses q -0.0072 0.07 0.0098 -0.0077 -0.0052 0.0103 0.2124)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0531) (bps q 13 27 42 57 69 81) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0117) (looseness-sd . 0.0174914899943436) (looseness-variance . 0.0003059522222222223) (looses q 0.0454 0.0174 0.0098 -0.0077 -0.0052 0.0103 0.2124)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0777) (bps q 14 29 45 61 74 86) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0117) (looseness-sd . 0.02715275717532609) (looseness-variance . 0.0007372722222222225) (looses q -0.0072 0.07 0.0098 -0.0077 -0.0052 0.0103 0.2124)) (fh-improved . 19) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses warranted to last five years.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 74) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.0966) (bps q 18 33 49 59 71 85 97 113 127 145 160 177 192 208 222 237) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0482) (looseness-sd . 0.02371301066925075) (looseness-variance . 0.000562306875) (looses q 0.0758 0.0582 0.0894 0.0585 -0.0072 0.0324 0.0383 0.0547 0.0272 0.0258 0.0462 0.0776 0.0665 0.049 0.0226 0.0566 0.2251)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 47) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1324) (bps q 17 28 41 50 62 74 85 100 112 126 138 151 165 176 188 196) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0531) (looseness-sd . 0.036950116288720934) (looseness-variance . 0.0013653110937499999) (looses q 0.0758 0.0582 0.0343 0.1235 -0.0072 0.0324 0.0383 0.0547 0.0272 0.0258 0.0462 0.0212 0.0644 0.1076 0.0226 0.1252 0.1668)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 65) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1017) (bps q 16 27 40 50 61 73 84 98 111 125 136 149 163 175 187 196) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0522) (looseness-sd . 0.027654992203036324) (looseness-variance . 0.0007647985937499999) (looses q 0.1166 0.0794 0.0703 0.018 0.077 0.0549 0.0149 0.0676 0.0219 0.0444 0.0172 0.0484 0.0759 0.0539 0.0236 0.0514 0.1668)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 17) (looseness-spread . 0.1307) (bps q 18 33 50 59 71 85 97 113 127 145 160 178 193 208 222 237) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0488) (looseness-sd . 0.03198616888594193) (looseness-variance . 0.001023115) (looses q 0.0758 0.0582 0.0343 0.1235 -0.0072 0.0324 0.0383 0.0547 0.0272 0.0258 0.0462 0.0212 0.0644 0.1076 0.0226 0.0566 0.2251)) (fh-improved . 287) (bu-improved . 18) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0628) (bps q 15 34 51 65 80) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0293) (looseness-sd . 0.021788198640548512) (looseness-variance . 0.0004747256) (looses q 0.0447 -0.01 0.0251 0.034 0.0528 0.3555)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0628) (bps q 12 26 38 49 63) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0293) (looseness-sd . 0.021788198640548512) (looseness-variance . 0.0004747256) (looses q 0.0447 -0.01 0.0251 0.034 0.0528 0.3555)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0628) (bps q 12 26 38 49 63) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0293) (looseness-sd . 0.021788198640548512) (looseness-variance . 0.0004747256) (looses q 0.0447 -0.01 0.0251 0.034 0.0528 0.3555)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0628) (bps q 15 34 51 65 80) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0293) (looseness-sd . 0.021788198640548512) (looseness-variance . 0.0004747256) (looses q 0.0447 -0.01 0.0251 0.034 0.0528 0.3555)) (fh-improved . 57) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0453) (bps q 17 31 46 62) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0229) (looseness-sd . 0.018302595444362527) (looseness-variance . 0.00033498499999999994) (looses q 0.038 0.0153 -0.0035 0.0418 0.4316)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0453) (bps q 14 24 37 48) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0229) (looseness-sd . 0.018302595444362527) (looseness-variance . 0.00033498499999999994) (looses q 0.038 0.0153 -0.0035 0.0418 0.4316)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0453) (bps q 14 24 37 48) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0229) (looseness-sd . 0.018302595444362527) (looseness-variance . 0.00033498499999999994) (looses q 0.038 0.0153 -0.0035 0.0418 0.4316)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0453) (bps q 17 31 46 62) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0229) (looseness-sd . 0.018302595444362527) (looseness-variance . 0.00033498499999999994) (looses q 0.038 0.0153 -0.0035 0.0418 0.4316)) (fh-improved . 33) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 63) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.0851) (bps q 12 27 43 60 74 89 105 122 136 153 169 184 201) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0347) (looseness-sd . 0.023573274909117495) (looseness-variance . 0.0005556992899408285) (looses q 0.0849 0.0511 0.0166 0.0587 0.0307 0.0157 0.0249 0.0314 0.0244 0.0574 0.004 0.051 -0.0002 0.1692)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1082) (bps q 12 25 37 50 62 75 90 103 116 133 149 162 175) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0395) (looseness-sd . 0.030707692307692307) (looseness-variance . 0.0009429623668639053) (looses q 0.0849 0.0511 0.0166 0.0587 0.0307 0.0157 0.0249 0.0314 0.0244 0.0574 0.004 0.1107 0.0025 0.1166)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 56) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.0824) (bps q 12 25 37 50 62 75 90 103 116 133 148 162 175) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0395) (looseness-sd . 0.023067110734401396) (looseness-variance . 0.0005320915976331361) (looses q 0.0849 0.0511 0.0166 0.0587 0.0307 0.0157 0.0249 0.0314 0.0244 0.0574 0.0706 0.0441 0.0025 0.1166)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.0851) (bps q 12 27 43 60 74 89 105 122 136 153 169 184 201) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0347) (looseness-sd . 0.023573274909117495) (looseness-variance . 0.0005556992899408285) (looses q 0.0849 0.0511 0.0166 0.0587 0.0307 0.0157 0.0249 0.0314 0.0244 0.0574 0.004 0.051 -0.0002 0.1692)) (fh-improved . 186) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0331) (bps q 15 31 47) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0343) (looseness-sd . 0.013527995663314897) (looseness-variance . 0.00018300666666666666) (looses q 0.0504 0.0352 0.0173 0.2369)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0863) (bps q 13 26 38) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0343) (looseness-sd . 0.03779967665940485) (looseness-variance . 0.0014288155555555555) (looses q 0.0149 0.0008 0.0871 0.2369)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0331) (bps q 12 25 38) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0343) (looseness-sd . 0.013527995663314897) (looseness-variance . 0.00018300666666666666) (looses q 0.0504 0.0352 0.0173 0.2369)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0863) (bps q 16 32 47) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0343) (looseness-sd . 0.03779967665940485) (looseness-variance . 0.0014288155555555555) (looses q 0.0149 0.0008 0.0871 0.2369)) (fh-improved . 18) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little maid should know such changes!”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 58) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0588) (bps q 15 32 48 65 81 95 110 126 140 155 172) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0265) (looseness-sd . 0.019928251468996728) (looseness-variance . 0.00039713520661157026) (looses q 0.0173 0.032 -0.0002 0.011 0.0527 0.0454 -0.0038 0.0118 0.055 0.0441 0.0257 0.5399)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0588) (bps q 12 25 38 54 70 84 96 112 126 140 156) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0265) (looseness-sd . 0.019928251468996728) (looseness-variance . 0.00039713520661157026) (looses q 0.0173 0.032 -0.0002 0.011 0.0527 0.0454 -0.0038 0.0118 0.055 0.0441 0.0257 0.5399)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 49) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0588) (bps q 12 25 38 54 70 84 96 112 126 140 156) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0265) (looseness-sd . 0.019928251468996728) (looseness-variance . 0.00039713520661157026) (looses q 0.0173 0.032 -0.0002 0.011 0.0527 0.0454 -0.0038 0.0118 0.055 0.0441 0.0257 0.5399)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0588) (bps q 15 32 48 65 81 95 110 126 140 155 172) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0265) (looseness-sd . 0.019928251468996728) (looseness-variance . 0.00039713520661157026) (looses q 0.0173 0.032 -0.0002 0.011 0.0527 0.0454 -0.0038 0.0118 0.055 0.0441 0.0257 0.5399)) (fh-improved . 126) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, and he descended into the midst of it.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0264) (bps q 17 33 49 66 82 98 110) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0198) (looseness-sd . 0.008576784041224072) (looseness-variance . 7.356122448979592e-05) (looses q 0.0155 0.0156 0.0029 0.0279 0.022 0.0255 0.0293 0.9428)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0264) (bps q 11 24 38 52 66 81 93) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0198) (looseness-sd . 0.008576784041224072) (looseness-variance . 7.356122448979592e-05) (looses q 0.0155 0.0156 0.0029 0.0279 0.022 0.0255 0.0293 0.9428)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0264) (bps q 11 24 38 52 66 81 93) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0198) (looseness-sd . 0.008576784041224072) (looseness-variance . 7.356122448979592e-05) (looses q 0.0155 0.0156 0.0029 0.0279 0.022 0.0255 0.0293 0.9428)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0264) (bps q 17 33 49 66 82 98 110) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0198) (looseness-sd . 0.008576784041224072) (looseness-variance . 7.356122448979592e-05) (looses q 0.0155 0.0156 0.0029 0.0279 0.022 0.0255 0.0293 0.9428)) (fh-improved . 90) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0415) (bps q 15 30 47 63 76 91) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0482) (looseness-sd . 0.016126212271399078) (looseness-variance . 0.0002600547222222222) (looses q 0.0299 0.0455 0.0273 0.0688 0.0669 0.0509 0.3847)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0415) (bps q 14 29 41 55 68 81) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0482) (looseness-sd . 0.016126212271399078) (looseness-variance . 0.0002600547222222222) (looses q 0.0299 0.0455 0.0273 0.0688 0.0669 0.0509 0.3847)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0415) (bps q 14 29 41 55 68 81) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0482) (looseness-sd . 0.016126212271399078) (looseness-variance . 0.0002600547222222222) (looses q 0.0299 0.0455 0.0273 0.0688 0.0669 0.0509 0.3847)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0621) (bps q 15 30 47 63 77 91) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0466) (looseness-sd . 0.023027785149442596) (looseness-variance . 0.000530278888888889) (looses q 0.0299 0.0455 0.0273 0.0688 0.0229 0.085 0.3847)) (fh-improved . 35) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and in the other that of a granary good to feed in.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 55) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.0684) (bps q 15 32 50 62 76 90 106 121 136 150 166 181 195 211 227 243 260) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0275) (looseness-sd . 0.019789272197775414) (looseness-variance . 0.000391615294117647) (looses q -0.0016 0.0668 0.0096 0.0069 0.0532 0.03 0.0372 0.028 0.0326 0.0394 0.0178 0.04 0.0151 0.0192 0.061 -0.0004 0.0127 0.6207)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.1103) (bps q 13 25 39 50 61 74 86 98 109 120 132 146 158 172 184 197 212) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0378) (looseness-sd . 0.033795529075117736) (looseness-variance . 0.001142137785467128) (looses q -0.0016 0.0252 0.0031 0.0641 -0.0038 0.0387 0.0958 0.028 0.0326 0.0394 0.0178 0.0956 0.1039 0.0291 0.0263 0.0556 -0.0064 0.4756)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 67) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.1126) (bps q 13 25 38 50 61 74 86 98 109 120 131 146 158 171 183 196 210) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0425) (looseness-sd . 0.034620896943757994) (looseness-variance . 0.0011986065051903115) (looses q -0.0016 0.0252 0.0603 0.0069 -0.0038 0.0387 0.0958 0.028 0.0326 0.0394 0.0533 0.0601 0.1039 0.1017 0.024 0.0663 -0.0087 0.3883)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 18) (looseness-spread . 0.0996) (bps q 15 33 51 62 77 91 106 121 136 150 166 181 195 211 227 243 260) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0286) (looseness-sd . 0.02577671221730118) (looseness-variance . 0.000664438892733564) (looses q -0.0016 0.0252 0.0031 0.0641 -0.0038 0.0387 0.0958 0.028 0.0326 0.0394 0.0178 0.04 0.0151 0.0192 0.061 -0.0004 0.0127 0.6207)) (fh-improved . 449) (bu-improved . 7) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0353) (bps q 14 30 45 59) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0106) (looseness-sd . 0.01271937498464449) (looseness-variance . 0.00016178250000000003) (looses q 0.0148 0.0091 -0.0085 0.0268 0.446)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1596) (bps q 12 26 39 48) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0416) (looseness-sd . 0.06378625929618385) (looseness-variance . 0.0040686868750000015) (looses q 0.0148 0.0091 -0.0085 0.1511 0.3316)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1249) (bps q 12 25 37 48) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0398) (looseness-sd . 0.05069529070830938) (looseness-variance . 0.0025700124999999993) (looses q 0.0148 0.1271 0.0022 0.0149 0.3316)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0353) (bps q 14 30 45 59) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0106) (looseness-sd . 0.01271937498464449) (looseness-variance . 0.00016178250000000003) (looses q 0.0148 0.0091 -0.0085 0.0268 0.446)) (fh-improved . 23) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0511) (bps q 14 27 43 57 72 87) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0212) (looseness-sd . 0.0211031922282441) (looseness-variance . 0.0004453447222222222) (looses q 0.0253 -0.0025 0.0022 0.0053 0.0482 0.0486 0.3011)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0511) (bps q 14 24 39 52 65 79) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0212) (looseness-sd . 0.0211031922282441) (looseness-variance . 0.0004453447222222222) (looses q 0.0253 -0.0025 0.0022 0.0053 0.0482 0.0486 0.3011)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0511) (bps q 14 24 39 52 65 79) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0212) (looseness-sd . 0.0211031922282441) (looseness-variance . 0.0004453447222222222) (looses q 0.0253 -0.0025 0.0022 0.0053 0.0482 0.0486 0.3011)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0511) (bps q 14 27 43 57 72 87) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0212) (looseness-sd . 0.0211031922282441) (looseness-variance . 0.0004453447222222222) (looses q 0.0253 -0.0025 0.0022 0.0053 0.0482 0.0486 0.3011)) (fh-improved . 27) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a good meal!”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0022) (bps q 13 27) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0123) (looseness-sd . 0.0011000000000000003) (looseness-variance . 1.2100000000000007e-06) (looses q 0.0134 0.0112 0.0212)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0022) (bps q 11 25) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0123) (looseness-sd . 0.0011000000000000003) (looseness-variance . 1.2100000000000007e-06) (looses q 0.0134 0.0112 0.0212)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0022) (bps q 11 25) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0123) (looseness-sd . 0.0011000000000000003) (looseness-variance . 1.2100000000000007e-06) (looses q 0.0134 0.0112 0.0212)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0022) (bps q 13 27) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0123) (looseness-sd . 0.0011000000000000003) (looseness-variance . 1.2100000000000007e-06) (looses q 0.0134 0.0112 0.0212)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much resembled his own.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0167) (bps q 14 29) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0116) (looseness-sd . 0.00835) (looseness-variance . 6.97225e-05) (looses q 0.0033 0.02 -0.0041)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0167) (bps q 14 27) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0116) (looseness-sd . 0.00835) (looseness-variance . 6.97225e-05) (looses q 0.0033 0.02 -0.0041)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0167) (bps q 14 27) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0116) (looseness-sd . 0.00835) (looseness-variance . 6.97225e-05) (looses q 0.0033 0.02 -0.0041)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0167) (bps q 14 29) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0116) (looseness-sd . 0.00835) (looseness-variance . 6.97225e-05) (looses q 0.0033 0.02 -0.0041)) (fh-improved . 2) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the clacker swinging in his hand.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0499) (bps q 15 32 47 61 75 91 106) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0191) (looseness-sd . 0.0178650039839609) (looseness-variance . 0.0003191583673469388) (looses q 0.0169 -0.0022 0.0473 -0.0026 0.0106 0.0245 0.0393 0.0637)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1053) (bps q 15 28 41 52 64 76 88 99) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0418) (looseness-sd . 0.031348763930975014) (looseness-variance . 0.000982745) (looses q 0.0169 -0.0022 0.1031 0.0489 0.0491 0.0704 0.0242 0.024 0.8806)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0549) (bps q 15 27 41 52 64 76 88 99) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0418) (looseness-sd . 0.020092162651143358) (looseness-variance . 0.0004036950000000001) (looses q 0.0169 0.0718 0.0291 0.0489 0.0491 0.0704 0.0242 0.024 0.8806)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0499) (bps q 15 32 47 61 75 91 106) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0191) (looseness-sd . 0.0178650039839609) (looseness-variance . 0.0003191583673469388) (looses q 0.0169 -0.0022 0.0473 -0.0026 0.0106 0.0245 0.0393 0.0637)) (fh-improved . 63) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0619) (bps q 13 26 40 54) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0667) (looseness-sd . 0.0249602684280438) (looseness-variance . 0.000623015) (looses q 0.0991 0.0372 0.0821 0.0484 0.3577)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0619) (bps q 13 26 38 50) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0788) (looseness-sd . 0.02486939635375173) (looseness-variance . 0.000618486875) (looses q 0.0991 0.0372 0.0821 0.0967 0.3193)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0619) (bps q 13 26 38 50) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0788) (looseness-sd . 0.02486939635375173) (looseness-variance . 0.000618486875) (looses q 0.0991 0.0372 0.0821 0.0967 0.3193)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0619) (bps q 13 26 40 54) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0667) (looseness-sd . 0.0249602684280438) (looseness-variance . 0.000623015) (looses q 0.0991 0.0372 0.0821 0.0484 0.3577)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0274) (bps q 11 26 40 55) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0256) (looseness-sd . 0.01140054823243163) (looseness-variance . 0.00012997249999999996) (looses q 0.0394 0.0341 0.012 0.0171 0.3448)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0274) (bps q 9 23 37 51) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0256) (looseness-sd . 0.01140054823243163) (looseness-variance . 0.00012997249999999996) (looses q 0.0394 0.0341 0.012 0.0171 0.3448)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0274) (bps q 9 23 37 51) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0256) (looseness-sd . 0.01140054823243163) (looseness-variance . 0.00012997249999999996) (looses q 0.0394 0.0341 0.012 0.0171 0.3448)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0274) (bps q 11 26 40 55) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0256) (looseness-sd . 0.01140054823243163) (looseness-variance . 0.00012997249999999996) (looses q 0.0394 0.0341 0.012 0.0171 0.3448)) (fh-improved . 12) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0461) (bps q 13 30 46 62 77 94 110) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0348) (looseness-sd . 0.017237311216056397) (looseness-variance . 0.0002971248979591837) (looses q 0.0263 0.0284 0.0526 0.0207 0.0537 0.0539 0.0078 0.8462)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1133) (bps q 12 25 38 51 66 80 95) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0343) (looseness-sd . 0.035851627350421196) (looseness-variance . 0.0012853391836734694) (looses q 0.0263 -0.0071 0.0355 0.0617 0.0099 0.1062 0.0078 0.8462)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0461) (bps q 12 24 37 50 65 80 95) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0348) (looseness-sd . 0.017237311216056397) (looseness-variance . 0.0002971248979591837) (looses q 0.0263 0.0284 0.0526 0.0207 0.0537 0.0539 0.0078 0.8462)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1133) (bps q 13 31 47 63 78 94 110) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0343) (looseness-sd . 0.035851627350421196) (looseness-variance . 0.0012853391836734694) (looses q 0.0263 -0.0071 0.0355 0.0617 0.0099 0.1062 0.0078 0.8462)) (fh-improved . 69) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1165) (bps q 15 30 45 61 78 91 105) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0295) (looseness-sd . 0.03709765931336655) (looseness-variance . 0.001376236326530612) (looses q 0.0398 0.1089 0.0095 0.0457 0.0039 -0.0076 0.0065 0.2525)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1165) (bps q 10 23 34 48 59 71 83) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0295) (looseness-sd . 0.03709765931336655) (looseness-variance . 0.001376236326530612) (looses q 0.0398 0.1089 0.0095 0.0457 0.0039 -0.0076 0.0065 0.2525)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1165) (bps q 10 23 34 48 59 71 83) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0295) (looseness-sd . 0.03709765931336655) (looseness-variance . 0.001376236326530612) (looses q 0.0398 0.1089 0.0095 0.0457 0.0039 -0.0076 0.0065 0.2525)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.1165) (bps q 15 30 45 61 78 91 105) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0295) (looseness-sd . 0.03709765931336655) (looseness-variance . 0.001376236326530612) (looses q 0.0398 0.1089 0.0095 0.0457 0.0039 -0.0076 0.0065 0.2525)) (fh-improved . 97) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and never let him see him in one of those fields again.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0368) (bps q 13 30 46) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0287) (looseness-sd . 0.015069689962157667) (looseness-variance . 0.00022709555555555552) (looses q 0.027 0.0479 0.0111 0.4541)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0368) (bps q 11 25 40) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0287) (looseness-sd . 0.015069689962157667) (looseness-variance . 0.00022709555555555552) (looses q 0.027 0.0479 0.0111 0.4541)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0368) (bps q 11 25 40) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0287) (looseness-sd . 0.015069689962157667) (looseness-variance . 0.00022709555555555552) (looses q 0.027 0.0479 0.0111 0.4541)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0368) (bps q 13 30 46) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0287) (looseness-sd . 0.015069689962157667) (looseness-variance . 0.00022709555555555552) (looses q 0.027 0.0479 0.0111 0.4541)) (fh-improved . 13) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0664) (bps q 13 26 43 57 73) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0422) (looseness-sd . 0.023007181487526892) (looseness-variance . 0.0005293304000000001) (looses q 0.0548 0.0645 -0.0019 0.046 0.0478 0.1627)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1458) (bps q 11 24 37 50 64) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0442) (looseness-sd . 0.052158504579790245) (looseness-variance . 0.0027205096) (looses q 0.1375 -0.0083 -0.0019 0.046 0.0478 0.1627)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1458) (bps q 11 24 37 50 64) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0442) (looseness-sd . 0.052158504579790245) (looseness-variance . 0.0027205096) (looses q 0.1375 -0.0083 -0.0019 0.046 0.0478 0.1627)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0584) (bps q 13 27 44 58 74) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0211) (looseness-sd . 0.020196989874731335) (looseness-variance . 0.00040791840000000003) (looses q 0.0548 0.0084 -0.0036 0.0308 0.0149 0.2659)) (fh-improved . 30) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them at each tread.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.057) (bps q 17 31 46 61 78) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0195) (looseness-sd . 0.018683939627391222) (looseness-variance . 0.0003490896) (looses q 0.0133 0.0495 -0.0075 0.0271 0.015 0.1949)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0652) (bps q 15 27 39 54 68) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0215) (looseness-sd . 0.027666629718850828) (looseness-variance . 0.0007654423999999999) (looses q 0.0576 0.0151 -0.0075 -0.0076 0.0497 0.1949)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0651) (bps q 15 27 39 53 68) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0215) (looseness-sd . 0.021254514814504705) (looseness-variance . 0.00045175439999999993) (looses q 0.0576 0.0151 -0.0075 0.0271 0.015 0.1949)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0621) (bps q 17 32 47 62 78) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0195) (looseness-sd . 0.02718267095044194) (looseness-variance . 0.0007388976000000001) (looses q 0.0133 -0.0094 -0.0089 0.0527 0.0497 0.1949)) (fh-improved . 33) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 55) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0527) (bps q 13 29 44 61 76 92 109 127 144 160 175) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0203) (looseness-sd . 0.016266768843105916) (looseness-variance . 0.0002646077685950413) (looses q 0.0365 0.0126 0.0058 0.0432 -0.0091 0.0436 0.0112 0.0317 0.0162 0.0065 0.0255 0.8586)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0845) (bps q 13 27 40 52 67 82 95 110 126 138 149) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0233) (looseness-sd . 0.024215977240636156) (looseness-variance . 0.0005864135537190083) (looses q 0.0365 0.0126 0.0058 0.0432 -0.0091 0.0436 0.0112 0.0317 0.0162 0.0745 -0.01 0.8359)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 51) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0744) (bps q 13 27 40 52 67 82 95 110 125 138 149) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0233) (looseness-sd . 0.022313691457181196) (looseness-variance . 0.000497900826446281) (looses q 0.0365 0.0126 0.0058 0.0432 -0.0091 0.0436 0.0112 0.0317 0.0644 0.0263 -0.01 0.8359)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0527) (bps q 13 29 44 61 76 92 109 127 144 160 175) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0203) (looseness-sd . 0.016266768843105916) (looseness-variance . 0.0002646077685950413) (looses q 0.0365 0.0126 0.0058 0.0432 -0.0091 0.0436 0.0112 0.0317 0.0162 0.0065 0.0255 0.8586)) (fh-improved . 131) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0247) (bps q 19 34) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0076) (looseness-sd . 0.01235) (looseness-variance . 0.0001525225) (looses q 0.0199 -0.0048 0.2531)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0247) (bps q 15 29) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0076) (looseness-sd . 0.01235) (looseness-variance . 0.0001525225) (looses q 0.0199 -0.0048 0.2531)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0247) (bps q 15 29) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0076) (looseness-sd . 0.01235) (looseness-variance . 0.0001525225) (looses q 0.0199 -0.0048 0.2531)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0247) (bps q 19 34) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.0076) (looseness-sd . 0.01235) (looseness-variance . 0.0001525225) (looses q 0.0199 -0.0048 0.2531)) (fh-improved . 9) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of mischty.”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0522) (bps q 14 30 44 58 73 88 103 121) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0349) (looseness-sd . 0.01710796598079386) (looseness-variance . 0.0002926825) (looses q 0.0362 0.0101 0.0272 0.0302 0.0623 0.0392 0.0162 0.0578 0.3089)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1412) (bps q 13 27 40 53 69 82 94 111) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0369) (looseness-sd . 0.038598251255724005) (looseness-variance . 0.0014898249999999997) (looses q 0.0135 0.0327 0.0272 0.0302 -0.0096 0.0412 0.0288 0.1316 0.3089)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0731) (bps q 12 27 40 53 68 81 93 111) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.037) (looseness-sd . 0.02323622912070717) (looseness-variance . 0.00053992234375) (looses q 0.0362 0.0101 0.0272 0.0302 0.0623 0.0392 0.0818 0.0087 0.3089)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1412) (bps q 15 30 44 58 74 89 104 121) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0369) (looseness-sd . 0.038598251255724005) (looseness-variance . 0.0014898249999999997) (looses q 0.0135 0.0327 0.0272 0.0302 -0.0096 0.0412 0.0288 0.1316 0.3089)) (fh-improved . 46) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, and only secondarily from a moral one.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0068) (bps q 15 32) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0087) (looseness-sd . 0.0034) (looseness-variance . 1.1559999999999998e-05) (looses q 0.0121 0.0053 0.5943)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0719) (bps q 12 25) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0474) (looseness-sd . 0.03595) (looseness-variance . 0.0012924025) (looses q 0.0834 0.0115 0.5265)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0719) (bps q 12 25) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0474) (looseness-sd . 0.03595) (looseness-variance . 0.0012924025) (looses q 0.0834 0.0115 0.5265)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0068) (bps q 15 32) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0087) (looseness-sd . 0.0034) (looseness-variance . 1.1559999999999998e-05) (looses q 0.0121 0.0053 0.5943)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy side of the family, and never will be!”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0948) (bps q 12 27 43 57) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0242) (looseness-sd . 0.037443557523290975) (looseness-variance . 0.0014020200000000001) (looses q 0.0872 -0.0076 0.0002 0.017 0.6499)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0948) (bps q 12 26 37 51) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0242) (looseness-sd . 0.037443557523290975) (looseness-variance . 0.0014020200000000001) (looses q 0.0872 -0.0076 0.0002 0.017 0.6499)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0948) (bps q 12 26 37 51) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0242) (looseness-sd . 0.037443557523290975) (looseness-variance . 0.0014020200000000001) (looses q 0.0872 -0.0076 0.0002 0.017 0.6499)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0948) (bps q 12 27 43 57) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0242) (looseness-sd . 0.037443557523290975) (looseness-variance . 0.0014020200000000001) (looses q 0.0872 -0.0076 0.0002 0.017 0.6499)) (fh-improved . 13) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0718) (bps q 15 32) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0321) (looseness-sd . 0.0359) (looseness-variance . 0.00128881) (looses q 0.068 -0.0038 0.4081)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0718) (bps q 13 30) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0321) (looseness-sd . 0.0359) (looseness-variance . 0.00128881) (looses q 0.068 -0.0038 0.4081)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0718) (bps q 13 30) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0321) (looseness-sd . 0.0359) (looseness-variance . 0.00128881) (looses q 0.068 -0.0038 0.4081)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0718) (bps q 15 32) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0321) (looseness-sd . 0.0359) (looseness-variance . 0.00128881) (looses q 0.068 -0.0038 0.4081)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor folk in Christminster with we.”") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0434) (bps q 14 30) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0175) (looseness-sd . 0.0217) (looseness-variance . 0.00047088999999999996) (looses q 0.0392 -0.0042 0.6438)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0434) (bps q 13 26) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0175) (looseness-sd . 0.0217) (looseness-variance . 0.00047088999999999996) (looses q 0.0392 -0.0042 0.6438)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0434) (bps q 13 26) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0175) (looseness-sd . 0.0217) (looseness-variance . 0.00047088999999999996) (looses q 0.0392 -0.0042 0.6438)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0434) (bps q 14 30) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0175) (looseness-sd . 0.0217) (looseness-variance . 0.00047088999999999996) (looses q 0.0392 -0.0042 0.6438)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 65) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.0882) (bps q 16 32 47 62 77 92 104 120 134 151 170 186 202) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0352) (looseness-sd . 0.02549243071322621) (looseness-variance . 0.000649864023668639) (looses q 0.0295 0.076 0.0034 0.0509 0.0306 0.0269 0.0579 0.0356 0.0499 0.075 0.0257 0.0078 -0.0122 0.0059)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1161) (bps q 13 28 41 56 69 77 90 104 116 133 146 158 169) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0369) (looseness-sd . 0.035380924556676116) (looseness-variance . 0.0012518098224852069) (looses q 0.1093 0.006 0.0709 -0.0068 0.0306 0.0269 -0.0023 0.0278 0.0175 -0.0055 0.0761 0.0606 0.0682 0.0059)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1215) (bps q 13 27 41 56 69 77 90 104 115 131 145 157 169) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0369) (looseness-sd . 0.03312000057170625) (looseness-variance . 0.0010969344378698224) (looses q 0.1093 0.0586 0.0183 -0.0068 0.0306 0.0269 -0.0023 0.0278 0.0695 0.046 0.0472 0.0664 -0.0122 0.0059)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.1017) (bps q 16 33 48 64 79 93 106 122 136 155 172 187 202) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0379) (looseness-sd . 0.033376142136342324) (looseness-variance . 0.0011139668639053254) (looses q 0.0295 0.0231 0.0042 0.0003 -0.0014 0.0962 0.0433 0.0203 0.0777 -0.0055 0.0761 0.0606 0.0682 0.0059)) (fh-improved . 213) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 20)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0676) (bps q 15 31 47) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0377) (looseness-sd . 0.028711437906636907) (looseness-variance . 0.0008243466666666667) (looses q 0.0489 0.0659 -0.0017 0.2048)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0234) (bps q 12 25 38) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.0524) (looseness-sd . 0.00987432135502092) (looseness-variance . 9.750222222222221e-05) (looses q 0.0489 0.0659 0.0425 0.1704)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0234) (bps q 12 25 38) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.0524) (looseness-sd . 0.00987432135502092) (looseness-variance . 9.750222222222221e-05) (looses q 0.0489 0.0659 0.0425 0.1704)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0676) (bps q 15 31 47) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0377) (looseness-sd . 0.028711437906636907) (looseness-variance . 0.0008243466666666667) (looses q 0.0489 0.0659 -0.0017 0.2048)) (fh-improved . 18) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak open down.") (measure . 330) (bh h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0893) (bps q 14 28 43 57 73 92 107 123 138 153) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0184) (looseness-sd . 0.027878466600586196) (looseness-variance . 0.0007772089) (looses q 0.0368 0.0766 0.0005 0.0136 0.0539 -0.0127 0.0021 0.0018 -0.0118 0.0231 0.6418)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0893) (bps q 12 23 33 46 60 76 87 100 114 128) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0184) (looseness-sd . 0.027878466600586196) (looseness-variance . 0.0007772089) (looses q 0.0368 0.0766 0.0005 0.0136 0.0539 -0.0127 0.0021 0.0018 -0.0118 0.0231 0.6418)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0893) (bps q 12 23 33 46 60 76 87 100 114 128) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0184) (looseness-sd . 0.027878466600586196) (looseness-variance . 0.0007772089) (looses q 0.0368 0.0766 0.0005 0.0136 0.0539 -0.0127 0.0021 0.0018 -0.0118 0.0231 0.6418)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0893) (bps q 14 28 43 57 73 92 107 123 138 153) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0184) (looseness-sd . 0.027878466600586196) (looseness-variance . 0.0007772089) (looses q 0.0368 0.0766 0.0005 0.0136 0.0539 -0.0127 0.0021 0.0018 -0.0118 0.0231 0.6418)) (fh-improved . 149) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in moving house.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0641) (bps q 16 31 49 66 82 101 120 137 155) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0271) (looseness-sd . 0.017906485479351388) (looseness-variance . 0.0003206422222222222) (looses q 0.0327 0.0479 0.0629 0.0281 0.0156 0.0157 0.0214 0.0205 -0.0012 0.3373)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1247) (bps q 11 26 40 52 63 76 92 103 117) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0381) (looseness-sd . 0.03965159688842896) (looseness-variance . 0.0015722491358024693) (looses q 0.0327 0.0037 0.0725 0.0717 0.1216 0.0013 0.0166 0.0263 -0.0031 0.2488)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.103) (bps q 10 24 38 50 63 76 92 103 117) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0396) (looseness-sd . 0.033340958387137576) (looseness-variance . 0.0011116195061728396) (looses q 0.0999 0.0605 0.0732 0.0608 0.0207 0.0013 0.0166 0.0263 -0.0031 0.2488)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0557) (bps q 16 32 51 67 83 103 121 138 155) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0264) (looseness-sd . 0.017488310028539664) (looseness-variance . 0.000305840987654321) (looses q 0.0327 0.0037 0.0057 0.0384 0.0327 0.0076 0.0594 0.0205 0.0368 0.3373)) (fh-improved . 186) (bu-improved . 7) (bh-improved . 9)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and everything would be smooth again.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0229) (bps q 18 32 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0527) (looseness-sd . 0.010276294187216624) (looseness-variance . 0.00010560222222222219) (looses q 0.0443 0.0672 0.0467 0.9314)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0229) (bps q 16 30 42) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0527) (looseness-sd . 0.010276294187216624) (looseness-variance . 0.00010560222222222219) (looses q 0.0443 0.0672 0.0467 0.9314)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0229) (bps q 16 30 42) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0527) (looseness-sd . 0.010276294187216624) (looseness-variance . 0.00010560222222222219) (looses q 0.0443 0.0672 0.0467 0.9314)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0229) (bps q 18 32 46) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0527) (looseness-sd . 0.010276294187216624) (looseness-variance . 0.00010560222222222219) (looses q 0.0443 0.0672 0.0467 0.9314)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary lodgings just at first.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0474) (bps q 16 33 51 69) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0215) (looseness-sd . 0.017074158105159973) (looseness-variance . 0.00029152687500000004) (looses q 0.0255 0.042 -0.0054 0.024 0.4741)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0801) (bps q 12 23 41 57) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0215) (looseness-sd . 0.03254991359435536) (looseness-variance . 0.001059496875) (looses q -0.0063 0.0738 -0.0054 0.024 0.4741)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0474) (bps q 11 23 41 57) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0215) (looseness-sd . 0.017074158105159973) (looseness-variance . 0.00029152687500000004) (looses q 0.0255 0.042 -0.0054 0.024 0.4741)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0801) (bps q 17 33 51 69) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0215) (looseness-sd . 0.03254991359435536) (looseness-variance . 0.001059496875) (looses q -0.0063 0.0738 -0.0054 0.024 0.4741)) (fh-improved . 37) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve found a place to settle in, sir.”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.064) (bps q 17 33 50) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.028643440203066858) (looseness-variance . 0.0008204466666666667) (looses q 0.0786 0.0146 0.0217 0.2132)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.064) (bps q 13 28 45) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.028643440203066858) (looseness-variance . 0.0008204466666666667) (looses q 0.0786 0.0146 0.0217 0.2132)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.064) (bps q 13 28 45) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.028643440203066858) (looseness-variance . 0.0008204466666666667) (looses q 0.0786 0.0146 0.0217 0.2132)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.064) (bps q 17 33 50) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0383) (looseness-sd . 0.028643440203066858) (looseness-variance . 0.0008204466666666667) (looses q 0.0786 0.0146 0.0217 0.2132)) (fh-improved . 14) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy and the schoolmaster were left standing alone.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0589) (bps q 18 35 54 71) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0282) (looseness-sd . 0.021036203911352448) (looseness-variance . 0.000442521875) (looses q -0.001 0.0238 0.0322 0.0579 0.9298)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0589) (bps q 15 29 44 56) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0282) (looseness-sd . 0.021036203911352448) (looseness-variance . 0.000442521875) (looses q -0.001 0.0238 0.0322 0.0579 0.9298)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0589) (bps q 15 29 44 56) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0282) (looseness-sd . 0.021036203911352448) (looseness-variance . 0.000442521875) (looses q -0.001 0.0238 0.0322 0.0579 0.9298)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0589) (bps q 18 35 54 71) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0282) (looseness-sd . 0.021036203911352448) (looseness-variance . 0.000442521875) (looses q -0.001 0.0238 0.0322 0.0579 0.9298)) (fh-improved . 34) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, but one who had attended the night school only during the present teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0429) (bps q 18 35 49 66 87) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.028) (looseness-sd . 0.01548824070060896) (looseness-variance . 0.00023988559999999994) (looses q 0.0256 0.0455 0.0026 0.0429 0.0235 0.9274)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0723) (bps q 15 27 40 55 64) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0294) (looseness-sd . 0.02723149647008038) (looseness-variance . 0.0007415544000000001) (looses q 0.0256 0.0455 0.0026 0.0004 0.0727 0.9274)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0429) (bps q 15 27 40 54 64) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.028) (looseness-sd . 0.01548824070060896) (looseness-variance . 0.00023988559999999994) (looses q 0.0256 0.0455 0.0026 0.0429 0.0235 0.9274)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0723) (bps q 18 35 49 67 87) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0294) (looseness-sd . 0.02723149647008038) (looseness-variance . 0.0007415544000000001) (looses q 0.0256 0.0455 0.0026 0.0004 0.0727 0.9274)) (fh-improved . 55) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should have elsewhere.”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0553) (bps q 17 37 56 75 96 116) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0261) (looseness-sd . 0.019376568036907075) (looseness-variance . 0.0003754513888888889) (looses q 0.0368 0.0287 0.0535 0.0359 -0.0018 0.0036 0.798)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0838) (bps q 14 28 42 59 74 91) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0275) (looseness-sd . 0.028629821282478637) (looseness-variance . 0.0008196666666666668) (looses q 0.0368 0.082 0.0085 0.0359 -0.0018 0.0036 0.798)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.063) (bps q 13 28 42 59 74 91) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0275) (looseness-sd . 0.025504770795545945) (looseness-variance . 0.0006504933333333333) (looses q 0.0576 0.0612 0.0085 0.0359 -0.0018 0.0036 0.798)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0553) (bps q 17 37 56 75 96 116) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0261) (looseness-sd . 0.019376568036907075) (looseness-variance . 0.0003754513888888889) (looses q 0.0368 0.0287 0.0535 0.0359 -0.0018 0.0036 0.798)) (fh-improved . 89) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0571) (bps q 15 33 49 66) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.025) (looseness-sd . 0.022340825857608756) (looseness-variance . 0.0004991125) (looses q 0.0506 0.0152 -0.0065 0.0409 0.7705)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0789) (bps q 13 24 38 51) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0268) (looseness-sd . 0.03199456985177329) (looseness-variance . 0.0010236525000000003) (looses q 0.0002 0.0724 -0.0065 0.0409 0.7705)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0571) (bps q 12 24 38 51) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.025) (looseness-sd . 0.022340825857608756) (looseness-variance . 0.0004991125) (looses q 0.0506 0.0152 -0.0065 0.0409 0.7705)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0789) (bps q 16 33 49 66) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0268) (looseness-sd . 0.03199456985177329) (looseness-variance . 0.0010236525000000003) (looses q 0.0002 0.0724 -0.0065 0.0409 0.7705)) (fh-improved . 38) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0202) (bps q 16 31) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0265) (looseness-sd . 0.0101) (looseness-variance . 0.00010200999999999998) (looses q 0.0366 0.0164 0.7414)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0202) (bps q 14 26) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.0265) (looseness-sd . 0.0101) (looseness-variance . 0.00010200999999999998) (looses q 0.0366 0.0164 0.7414)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0202) (bps q 14 26) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.0265) (looseness-sd . 0.0101) (looseness-variance . 0.00010200999999999998) (looses q 0.0366 0.0164 0.7414)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0202) (bps q 16 31) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0265) (looseness-sd . 0.0101) (looseness-variance . 0.00010200999999999998) (looses q 0.0366 0.0164 0.7414)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. “Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt me out for old acquaintance’ sake.”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0244) (bps q 18 36 52) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.011208429367618322) (looseness-variance . 0.00012562888888888887) (looses q 0.0191 0.0204 0.0435 0.8491)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1319) (bps q 16 32 44) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0635) (looseness-sd . 0.06187411952235495) (looseness-variance . 0.0038284066666666662) (looses q 0.0191 0.0204 0.151 0.751)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0444) (bps q 15 30 44) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.0657) (looseness-sd . 0.018185036583838805) (looseness-variance . 0.0003306955555555557) (looses q 0.0889 0.0445 0.0636 0.751)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0244) (bps q 18 36 52) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.0277) (looseness-sd . 0.011208429367618322) (looseness-variance . 0.00012562888888888887) (looses q 0.0191 0.0204 0.0435 0.8491)) (fh-improved . 14) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the hart’s-tongue fern.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 60) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0957) (bps q 15 31 47 65 82 99 115 132 152 172) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0432) (looseness-sd . 0.031471866801955045) (looseness-variance . 0.0009904784) (looses q 0.0886 0.0968 0.0011 0.012 0.0163 0.0598 0.0234 0.0213 0.0592 0.0531 0.2019)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1439) (bps q 13 27 42 58 72 85 100 115 128 143) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0432) (looseness-sd . 0.03916853839499248) (looseness-variance . 0.0015341743999999998) (looses q 0.0404 0.145 0.0011 0.012 0.0163 0.0598 0.0234 0.0213 0.0592 0.0531 0.2019)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0957) (bps q 12 27 42 58 72 85 100 115 128 143) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0432) (looseness-sd . 0.031471866801955045) (looseness-variance . 0.0009904784) (looses q 0.0886 0.0968 0.0011 0.012 0.0163 0.0598 0.0234 0.0213 0.0592 0.0531 0.2019)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.1439) (bps q 16 31 47 65 82 99 115 132 152 172) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0432) (looseness-sd . 0.03916853839499248) (looseness-variance . 0.0015341743999999998) (looses q 0.0404 0.145 0.0011 0.012 0.0163 0.0598 0.0234 0.0213 0.0592 0.0531 0.2019)) (fh-improved . 128) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place like this!”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0669) (bps q 19 37 52 70 88) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0329) (looseness-sd . 0.022272727717996287) (looseness-variance . 0.0004960744000000001) (looses q 0.068 0.0011 0.0221 0.0434 0.0297 0.6525)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0669) (bps q 14 29 44 61 76) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0329) (looseness-sd . 0.022272727717996287) (looseness-variance . 0.0004960744000000001) (looses q 0.068 0.0011 0.0221 0.0434 0.0297 0.6525)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0669) (bps q 14 29 44 61 76) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0329) (looseness-sd . 0.022272727717996287) (looseness-variance . 0.0004960744000000001) (looses q 0.068 0.0011 0.0221 0.0434 0.0297 0.6525)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0669) (bps q 19 37 52 70 88) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.0329) (looseness-sd . 0.022272727717996287) (looseness-variance . 0.0004960744000000001) (looses q 0.068 0.0011 0.0221 0.0434 0.0297 0.6525)) (fh-improved . 42) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry:") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0074) (bps q 19 35) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0084) (looseness-sd . 0.0036999999999999997) (looseness-variance . 1.3689999999999998e-05) (looses q 0.0121 0.0047 0.2365)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0074) (bps q 17 32) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0084) (looseness-sd . 0.0036999999999999997) (looseness-variance . 1.3689999999999998e-05) (looses q 0.0121 0.0047 0.2365)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0074) (bps q 17 32) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0084) (looseness-sd . 0.0036999999999999997) (looseness-variance . 1.3689999999999998e-05) (looses q 0.0121 0.0047 0.2365)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0074) (bps q 19 35) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0084) (looseness-sd . 0.0036999999999999997) (looseness-variance . 1.3689999999999998e-05) (looses q 0.0121 0.0047 0.2365)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0891) (bps q 15 33 49 64 78 95) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0325) (looseness-sd . 0.031058761512118713) (looseness-variance . 0.0009646466666666667) (looses q 0.0278 -0.0022 0.0543 0.0814 0.0414 -0.0077 0.6447)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0787) (bps q 14 29 45 59 72 85) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0561) (looseness-sd . 0.026900521473673247) (looseness-variance . 0.0007236380555555555) (looses q 0.0768 0.0389 0.0705 0.0384 0.0954 0.0167 0.5124)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0772) (bps q 14 28 44 58 72 85) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.055) (looseness-sd . 0.027976383889908925) (looseness-variance . 0.0007826780555555556) (looses q 0.0768 0.0597 0.0939 0.062 0.0208 0.0167 0.5124)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1078) (bps q 15 33 49 65 78 95) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.031) (looseness-sd . 0.03702962777740729) (looseness-variance . 0.001371193333333333) (looses q 0.0278 -0.0022 0.0543 0.0137 0.1001 -0.0077 0.6447)) (fh-improved . 31) (bu-improved . 3) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses warranted to last five years.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 76) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0643) (bps q 21 37 53 64 79 93 109 126 145 162 181 198 215 231 247) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0253) (looseness-sd . 0.017128269031049227) (looseness-variance . 0.0002933776000000001) (looses q 0.0081 0.0434 0.0266 0.0499 0.0396 0.0205 0.0209 0.0022 0.017 0.0187 0.0025 0.0192 0.023 0.0211 0.0665 0.9321)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0817) (bps q 18 31 44 55 70 81 96 110 125 138 152 168 182 193 204) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.03) (looseness-sd . 0.022058282395105523) (looseness-variance . 0.00048656782222222225) (looses q 0.0081 0.0434 0.0266 0.0499 0.0396 0.0205 0.0649 0.0155 0.0758 0.0187 0.0251 -0.0059 0.0007 0.0231 0.0433 0.8791)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0708) (bps q 18 31 44 55 70 81 96 109 125 138 152 168 182 193 204) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.03) (looseness-sd . 0.019124011666546908) (looseness-variance . 0.00036572782222222226) (looses q 0.0081 0.0434 0.0266 0.0499 0.0396 0.0205 0.0649 0.0473 0.044 0.0187 0.0251 -0.0059 0.0007 0.0231 0.0433 0.8791)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 49) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0643) (bps q 21 37 53 64 79 93 109 126 145 162 181 198 215 231 247) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0253) (looseness-sd . 0.017128269031049227) (looseness-variance . 0.0002933776000000001) (looses q 0.0081 0.0434 0.0266 0.0499 0.0396 0.0205 0.0209 0.0022 0.017 0.0187 0.0025 0.0192 0.023 0.0211 0.0665 0.9321)) (fh-improved . 294) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0174) (bps q 17 38 54 71 88) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0257) (looseness-sd . 0.005980300995769359) (looseness-variance . 3.576399999999999e-05) (looses q 0.0191 0.0264 0.025 0.0215 0.0365 0.815)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0174) (bps q 13 27 40 55 71) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0257) (looseness-sd . 0.005980300995769359) (looseness-variance . 3.576399999999999e-05) (looses q 0.0191 0.0264 0.025 0.0215 0.0365 0.815)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0174) (bps q 13 27 40 55 71) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0257) (looseness-sd . 0.005980300995769359) (looseness-variance . 3.576399999999999e-05) (looses q 0.0191 0.0264 0.025 0.0215 0.0365 0.815)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0174) (bps q 17 38 54 71 88) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0257) (looseness-sd . 0.005980300995769359) (looseness-variance . 3.576399999999999e-05) (looses q 0.0191 0.0264 0.025 0.0215 0.0365 0.815)) (fh-improved . 62) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0643) (bps q 19 33 49 67) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0252) (looseness-sd . 0.029417118740624477) (looseness-variance . 0.0008653668749999999) (looses q -0.0067 0.0576 0.0513 -0.0015 0.773)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0951) (bps q 15 27 39 51) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0476) (looseness-sd . 0.04007052376747776) (looseness-variance . 0.001605646875) (looses q -0.0067 0.0251 0.0837 0.0884 0.6921)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0951) (bps q 15 26 39 51) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0476) (looseness-sd . 0.034375899988218495) (looseness-variance . 0.0011817025000000001) (looses q -0.0067 0.0576 0.0513 0.0884 0.6921)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0904) (bps q 19 34 49 67) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0252) (looseness-sd . 0.03589132903641212) (looseness-variance . 0.0012881874999999998) (looses q -0.0067 0.0251 0.0837 -0.0015 0.773)) (fh-improved . 37) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 62) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0442) (bps q 14 30 49 66 82 99 117 133 152 169 186 204) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0265) (looseness-sd . 0.012612788373534044) (looseness-variance . 0.00015908243055555557) (looses q 0.0349 0.0211 0.0268 0.0371 0.0437 0.0155 0.0342 0.015 0.0459 0.0167 0.0017 0.0255 0.4334)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0913) (bps q 14 28 42 55 69 84 100 114 132 149 164 179) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0273) (looseness-sd . 0.02278425839380241) (looseness-variance . 0.0005191224305555555) (looses q 0.0349 0.0211 0.0823 -0.009 0.0437 0.0155 0.0134 0.0358 0.0459 0.0167 0.0017 0.0255 0.4334)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0913) (bps q 14 28 42 55 69 84 99 114 132 149 164 179) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0273) (looseness-sd . 0.02266221003981935) (looseness-variance . 0.0005135757638888889) (looses q 0.0349 0.0211 0.0823 -0.009 0.0437 0.0155 0.0342 0.015 0.0459 0.0167 0.0017 0.0255 0.4334)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0442) (bps q 14 30 49 66 82 99 118 133 152 169 186 204) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0265) (looseness-sd . 0.012830787085063109) (looseness-variance . 0.00016462909722222226) (looses q 0.0349 0.0211 0.0268 0.0371 0.0437 0.0155 0.0134 0.0358 0.0459 0.0167 0.0017 0.0255 0.4334)) (fh-improved . 172) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0244) (bps q 18 35 52) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0084) (looseness-sd . 0.0106680207473864) (looseness-variance . 0.00011380666666666667) (looses q -0.0065 0.0179 0.0138 0.6361)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0244) (bps q 15 29 42) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0084) (looseness-sd . 0.0106680207473864) (looseness-variance . 0.00011380666666666667) (looses q -0.0065 0.0179 0.0138 0.6361)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0244) (bps q 15 29 42) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0084) (looseness-sd . 0.0106680207473864) (looseness-variance . 0.00011380666666666667) (looses q -0.0065 0.0179 0.0138 0.6361)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0244) (bps q 18 35 52) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0084) (looseness-sd . 0.0106680207473864) (looseness-variance . 0.00011380666666666667) (looses q -0.0065 0.0179 0.0138 0.6361)) (fh-improved . 19) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little maid should know such changes!”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0632) (bps q 17 35 52 70 87 103 120 136 152 169) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0245) (looseness-sd . 0.0172481564232239) (looseness-variance . 0.00029749889999999997) (looses q 0.0198 0.0222 0.0378 0.0016 0.032 0.0229 0.0179 0.0648 0.0244 0.0017 0.4912)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0632) (bps q 14 27 42 59 76 90 106 122 137 154) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0245) (looseness-sd . 0.0172481564232239) (looseness-variance . 0.00029749889999999997) (looses q 0.0198 0.0222 0.0378 0.0016 0.032 0.0229 0.0179 0.0648 0.0244 0.0017 0.4912)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0632) (bps q 14 27 42 59 76 90 106 122 137 154) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0245) (looseness-sd . 0.0172481564232239) (looseness-variance . 0.00029749889999999997) (looses q 0.0198 0.0222 0.0378 0.0016 0.032 0.0229 0.0179 0.0648 0.0244 0.0017 0.4912)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 40) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0632) (bps q 17 35 52 70 87 103 120 136 152 169) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0245) (looseness-sd . 0.0172481564232239) (looseness-variance . 0.00029749889999999997) (looses q 0.0198 0.0222 0.0378 0.0016 0.032 0.0229 0.0179 0.0648 0.0244 0.0017 0.4912)) (fh-improved . 114) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, and he descended into the midst of it.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 44) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0515) (bps q 19 36 52 71 88 103) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.036) (looseness-sd . 0.020974647394731892) (looseness-variance . 0.00043993583333333335) (looses q 0.0168 0.0471 0.0582 0.0181 0.0123 0.0638 0.4287)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0563) (bps q 13 27 41 57 72 86) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.036) (looseness-sd . 0.02387626087421004) (looseness-variance . 0.0005700758333333333) (looses q 0.0168 0.0471 0.01 0.0663 0.0123 0.0638 0.4287)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0515) (bps q 13 27 40 57 72 86) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.036) (looseness-sd . 0.020974647394731892) (looseness-variance . 0.00043993583333333335) (looses q 0.0168 0.0471 0.0582 0.0181 0.0123 0.0638 0.4287)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0563) (bps q 19 36 53 71 88 103) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.036) (looseness-sd . 0.02387626087421004) (looseness-variance . 0.0005700758333333333) (looses q 0.0168 0.0471 0.01 0.0663 0.0123 0.0638 0.4287)) (fh-improved . 74) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0559) (bps q 16 33 52 70 86) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0136) (looseness-sd . 0.019246921831815082) (looseness-variance . 0.000370444) (looses q 0.0184 0.0484 0.0053 -0.0075 0.0034 0.1034)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.051) (bps q 16 31 47 62 76) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0154) (looseness-sd . 0.01734893656683314) (looseness-variance . 0.00030098559999999997) (looses q -0.007 0.0218 0.0149 0.044 0.0034 0.1034)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0476) (bps q 15 31 47 62 76) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0154) (looseness-sd . 0.016323038932747787) (looseness-variance . 0.00026644159999999995) (looses q 0.0184 -0.0036 0.0149 0.044 0.0034 0.1034)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.051) (bps q 17 34 53 70 86) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0154) (looseness-sd . 0.01734893656683314) (looseness-variance . 0.00030098559999999997) (looses q -0.007 0.0218 0.0149 0.044 0.0034 0.1034)) (fh-improved . 28) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and in the other that of a granary good to feed in.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 79) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0583) (bps q 17 36 53 68 84 99 116 132 149 166 183 199 217 233 253) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.02) (looseness-sd . 0.018114850874965057) (looseness-variance . 0.00032814782222222226) (looses q -0.0103 0.042 0.0407 0.0262 0.0132 0.0457 0.0357 0.0215 -0.0126 0.0151 0.0059 0.0358 0.0173 0.027 -0.0025 0.2051)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 52) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.1033) (bps q 15 27 41 54 67 82 93 106 119 132 148 163 178 190 207) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0207) (looseness-sd . 0.02660189132791543) (looseness-variance . 0.0007076606222222222) (looses q -0.0103 0.0907 0.0014 -0.0063 0.0457 0.0457 0.0357 0.0215 -0.0126 0.0151 0.0059 0.0358 0.0173 0.027 -0.0025 0.2051)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 65) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0619) (bps q 14 27 41 53 67 82 93 106 119 132 148 163 178 190 207) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0207) (looseness-sd . 0.01714730947473166) (looseness-variance . 0.0002940302222222222) (looses q 0.0493 0.031 0.0014 0.0262 0.0132 0.0457 0.0357 0.0215 -0.0126 0.0151 0.0059 0.0358 0.0173 0.027 -0.0025 0.2051)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 16) (looseness-spread . 0.0834) (bps q 17 37 53 69 84 99 116 132 149 166 183 199 217 233 253) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0201) (looseness-sd . 0.02298094476348225) (looseness-variance . 0.0005281238222222222) (looses q -0.0103 0.012 0.0708 -0.0063 0.0457 0.0457 0.0357 0.0215 -0.0126 0.0151 0.0059 0.0358 0.0173 0.027 -0.0025 0.2051)) (fh-improved . 385) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0253) (bps q 15 32 47 64) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0434) (looseness-sd . 0.010286732960469034) (looseness-variance . 0.000105816875) (looses q 0.03 0.0371 0.0513 0.0553 0.6843)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1305) (bps q 13 28 40 53) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0472) (looseness-sd . 0.04818096097007613) (looseness-variance . 0.002321405) (looses q 0.03 0.0371 0.1261 -0.0044 0.6843)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1021) (bps q 13 27 40 53) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0472) (looseness-sd . 0.03822152534894441) (looseness-variance . 0.0014608849999999999) (looses q 0.03 0.0977 0.0655 -0.0044 0.6843)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0253) (bps q 15 32 47 64) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0434) (looseness-sd . 0.010286732960469034) (looseness-variance . 0.000105816875) (looses q 0.03 0.0371 0.0513 0.0553 0.6843)) (fh-improved . 24) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0456) (bps q 16 31 46 62 78 95) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0224) (looseness-sd . 0.01552628595497183) (looseness-variance . 0.00024106555555555552) (looses q 0.0147 0.0094 0.0009 0.0465 0.0335 0.0296 0.8251)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1084) (bps q 14 26 41 54 69 85) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0344) (looseness-sd . 0.036669215820479294) (looseness-variance . 0.0013446313888888888) (looses q 0.1065 0.005 -0.0019 0.0124 0.0357 0.0486 0.7624)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1084) (bps q 14 26 41 54 69 85) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0344) (looseness-sd . 0.036669215820479294) (looseness-variance . 0.0013446313888888888) (looses q 0.1065 0.005 -0.0019 0.0124 0.0357 0.0486 0.7624)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0844) (bps q 16 31 46 62 79 95) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0224) (looseness-sd . 0.02886361127017123) (looseness-variance . 0.0008331080555555556) (looses q 0.0147 0.0094 0.0009 0.0465 -0.0107 0.0737 0.8251)) (fh-improved . 40) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a good meal!”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0141) (bps q 14 29) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0348) (looseness-sd . 0.007050000000000001) (looseness-variance . 4.970250000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0419 0.0278 0.2223)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0141) (bps q 12 27) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0348) (looseness-sd . 0.007050000000000001) (looseness-variance . 4.970250000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0419 0.0278 0.2223)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0141) (bps q 12 27) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0348) (looseness-sd . 0.007050000000000001) (looseness-variance . 4.970250000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0419 0.0278 0.2223)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0141) (bps q 14 29) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0348) (looseness-sd . 0.007050000000000001) (looseness-variance . 4.970250000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0419 0.0278 0.2223)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much resembled his own.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.01) (bps q 15 31) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0135) (looseness-sd . 0.004999999999999999) (looseness-variance . 2.499999999999999e-05) (looses q 0.0185 0.0085 0.2406)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.01) (bps q 15 29) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0135) (looseness-sd . 0.004999999999999999) (looseness-variance . 2.499999999999999e-05) (looses q 0.0185 0.0085 0.2406)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.01) (bps q 15 29) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0135) (looseness-sd . 0.004999999999999999) (looseness-variance . 2.499999999999999e-05) (looses q 0.0185 0.0085 0.2406)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.01) (bps q 15 31) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0135) (looseness-sd . 0.004999999999999999) (looseness-variance . 2.499999999999999e-05) (looses q 0.0185 0.0085 0.2406)) (fh-improved . 2) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the clacker swinging in his hand.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 46) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0359) (bps q 16 33 50 65 81 98 114) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0304) (looseness-sd . 0.013243157648000567) (looseness-variance . 0.0001753812244897959) (looses q 0.0448 0.0498 0.0293 0.023 0.0139 0.0377 0.0142 0.6415)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.121) (bps q 16 30 45 58 70 84 96) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0317) (looseness-sd . 0.037790566796166346) (looseness-variance . 0.00142812693877551) (looses q 0.0448 -0.0023 0.0172 0.013 0.0164 0.1187 0.0142 0.6415)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.121) (bps q 16 30 45 58 70 84 96) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0317) (looseness-sd . 0.037790566796166346) (looseness-variance . 0.00142812693877551) (looses q 0.0448 -0.0023 0.0172 0.013 0.0164 0.1187 0.0142 0.6415)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.121) (bps q 16 34 52 66 82 98 114) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0317) (looseness-sd . 0.037790566796166346) (looseness-variance . 0.00142812693877551) (looses q 0.0448 -0.0023 0.0172 0.013 0.0164 0.1187 0.0142 0.6415)) (fh-improved . 63) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 5)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.059) (bps q 15 30 45 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0344) (looseness-sd . 0.023734889930227186) (looseness-variance . 0.0005633449999999999) (looses q 0.0148 0.0416 0.0701 0.0111 0.8412)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.059) (bps q 15 30 42 57) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0344) (looseness-sd . 0.023734889930227186) (looseness-variance . 0.0005633449999999999) (looses q 0.0148 0.0416 0.0701 0.0111 0.8412)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.059) (bps q 15 30 42 57) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0344) (looseness-sd . 0.023734889930227186) (looseness-variance . 0.0005633449999999999) (looses q 0.0148 0.0416 0.0701 0.0111 0.8412)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.059) (bps q 15 30 45 62) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0344) (looseness-sd . 0.023734889930227186) (looseness-variance . 0.0005633449999999999) (looses q 0.0148 0.0416 0.0701 0.0111 0.8412)) (fh-improved . 8) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0576) (bps q 12 28 44 60) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0329) (looseness-sd . 0.020793628831928302) (looseness-variance . 0.000432375) (looses q 0.0658 0.0275 0.0082 0.0301 0.6952)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.069) (bps q 10 26 41 55) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0329) (looseness-sd . 0.024644776322782887) (looseness-variance . 0.000607365) (looses q 0.0658 -0.0032 0.0389 0.0301 0.6952)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0576) (bps q 10 25 41 55) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0329) (looseness-sd . 0.020793628831928302) (looseness-variance . 0.000432375) (looses q 0.0658 0.0275 0.0082 0.0301 0.6952)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.069) (bps q 12 29 44 60) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0329) (looseness-sd . 0.024644776322782887) (looseness-variance . 0.000607365) (looses q 0.0658 -0.0032 0.0389 0.0301 0.6952)) (fh-improved . 13) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 44) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0315) (bps q 14 33 50 68 86 104) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0178) (looseness-sd . 0.011390895487186246) (looseness-variance . 0.0001297525) (looses q 0.0248 0.0347 0.0032 0.007 0.0112 0.0262 0.5555)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0315) (bps q 13 27 41 56 74 89) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0178) (looseness-sd . 0.011390895487186246) (looseness-variance . 0.0001297525) (looses q 0.0248 0.0347 0.0032 0.007 0.0112 0.0262 0.5555)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0315) (bps q 13 27 41 56 74 89) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0178) (looseness-sd . 0.011390895487186246) (looseness-variance . 0.0001297525) (looses q 0.0248 0.0347 0.0032 0.007 0.0112 0.0262 0.5555)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0315) (bps q 14 33 50 68 86 104) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0178) (looseness-sd . 0.011390895487186246) (looseness-variance . 0.0001297525) (looses q 0.0248 0.0347 0.0032 0.007 0.0112 0.0262 0.5555)) (fh-improved . 55) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 23) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0779) (bps q 17 33 50 68 85 99 115) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0295) (looseness-sd . 0.021405168172424993) (looseness-variance . 0.00045818122448979594) (looses q 0.0306 -0.0062 0.0259 0.0353 0.0193 0.0717 0.0298 0.8888)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0779) (bps q 12 26 39 53 65 78 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0295) (looseness-sd . 0.021405168172424993) (looseness-variance . 0.00045818122448979594) (looses q 0.0306 -0.0062 0.0259 0.0353 0.0193 0.0717 0.0298 0.8888)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0779) (bps q 12 26 39 53 65 78 91) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0295) (looseness-sd . 0.021405168172424993) (looseness-variance . 0.00045818122448979594) (looses q 0.0306 -0.0062 0.0259 0.0353 0.0193 0.0717 0.0298 0.8888)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0779) (bps q 17 33 50 68 85 99 115) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0295) (looseness-sd . 0.021405168172424993) (looseness-variance . 0.00045818122448979594) (looses q 0.0306 -0.0062 0.0259 0.0353 0.0193 0.0717 0.0298 0.8888)) (fh-improved . 103) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and never let him see him in one of those fields again.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0181) (bps q 15 34 52) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0132) (looseness-sd . 0.00812171301033361) (looseness-variance . 6.596222222222222e-05) (looses q 0.018 0.0018 0.0199 0.7797)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0878) (bps q 11 27 43) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0556) (looseness-sd . 0.03785137602078248) (looseness-variance . 0.0014327266666666668) (looses q 0.1081 0.0384 0.0203 0.6617)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0878) (bps q 11 27 43) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.0556) (looseness-sd . 0.03785137602078248) (looseness-variance . 0.0014327266666666668) (looses q 0.1081 0.0384 0.0203 0.6617)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0181) (bps q 15 34 52) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.0132) (looseness-sd . 0.00812171301033361) (looseness-variance . 6.596222222222222e-05) (looses q 0.018 0.0018 0.0199 0.7797)) (fh-improved . 20) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.039) (bps q 15 31 48 64 83) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0131) (looseness-sd . 0.014844338988314701) (looseness-variance . 0.00022035439999999994) (looses q 0.0209 0.0387 -0.0003 0.004 0.002 0.7776)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0668) (bps q 13 27 42 55 72) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0237) (looseness-sd . 0.02493824372324563) (looseness-variance . 0.000621916) (looses q 0.0209 0.0387 -0.0003 0.063 -0.0038 0.7334)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0559) (bps q 13 27 41 55 72) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0237) (looseness-sd . 0.01983562451751898) (looseness-variance . 0.000393452) (looses q 0.0209 0.0387 0.0521 0.0106 -0.0038 0.7334)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.039) (bps q 15 31 48 64 83) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0131) (looseness-sd . 0.014844338988314701) (looseness-variance . 0.00022035439999999994) (looses q 0.0209 0.0387 -0.0003 0.004 0.002 0.7776)) (fh-improved . 32) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them at each tread.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0459) (bps q 18 34 49 66 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0256) (looseness-sd . 0.01526866071402466) (looseness-variance . 0.00023313200000000004) (looses q 0.0449 0.0345 0.0264 0.0232 -0.001 0.6559)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.077) (bps q 16 30 43 59 72) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0256) (looseness-sd . 0.028964419552271373) (looseness-variance . 0.0008389376000000001) (looses q 0.0449 0.0345 -0.0131 -0.0023 0.0639 0.6559)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0459) (bps q 16 30 42 58 72) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0256) (looseness-sd . 0.01526866071402466) (looseness-variance . 0.00023313200000000004) (looses q 0.0449 0.0345 0.0264 0.0232 -0.001 0.6559)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.077) (bps q 18 34 50 67 86) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0256) (looseness-sd . 0.028964419552271373) (looseness-variance . 0.0008389376000000001) (looses q 0.0449 0.0345 -0.0131 -0.0023 0.0639 0.6559)) (fh-improved . 35) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 61) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0345) (bps q 15 31 48 66 83 102 120 139 157 173) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0222) (looseness-sd . 0.011753216581004537) (looseness-variance . 0.00013813809999999998) (looses q 0.0081 0.0389 0.0279 0.0044 0.0169 0.0366 0.0301 0.0102 0.0171 0.0315 0.7637)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0782) (bps q 14 29 42 57 73 89 103 122 136 148) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0231) (looseness-sd . 0.020052483636696976) (looseness-variance . 0.00040210210000000003) (looses q 0.0671 -0.0111 0.0279 0.0044 0.0169 0.0366 0.0301 0.0102 0.0171 0.0315 0.7637)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 50) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0782) (bps q 14 29 42 57 73 89 103 122 136 148) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0231) (looseness-sd . 0.020052483636696976) (looseness-variance . 0.00040210210000000003) (looses q 0.0671 -0.0111 0.0279 0.0044 0.0169 0.0366 0.0301 0.0102 0.0171 0.0315 0.7637)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 11) (looseness-spread . 0.0345) (bps q 15 31 48 66 83 102 120 139 157 173) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0222) (looseness-sd . 0.011753216581004537) (looseness-variance . 0.00013813809999999998) (looses q 0.0081 0.0389 0.0279 0.0044 0.0169 0.0366 0.0301 0.0102 0.0171 0.0315 0.7637)) (fh-improved . 121) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.004) (bps q 21 38) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . -0.0085) (looseness-sd . 0.0020000000000000005) (looseness-variance . 4.000000000000002e-06) (looses q -0.0105 -0.0065 0.5128)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.004) (bps q 17 33) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . -0.0085) (looseness-sd . 0.0020000000000000005) (looseness-variance . 4.000000000000002e-06) (looses q -0.0105 -0.0065 0.5128)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.004) (bps q 17 33) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . -0.0085) (looseness-sd . 0.0020000000000000005) (looseness-variance . 4.000000000000002e-06) (looses q -0.0105 -0.0065 0.5128)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.004) (bps q 21 38) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . -0.0085) (looseness-sd . 0.0020000000000000005) (looseness-variance . 4.000000000000002e-06) (looses q -0.0105 -0.0065 0.5128)) (fh-improved . 9) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of mischty.”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 50) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0473) (bps q 16 32 48 64 80 97 116) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0229) (looseness-sd . 0.01526451132930396) (looseness-variance . 0.00023300530612244895) (looses q 0.0501 0.0028 0.0196 0.0206 0.0046 0.0312 0.0311 0.1056)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1049) (bps q 13 28 43 57 73 88 103 120) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0523) (looseness-sd . 0.03667062644338109) (looseness-variance . 0.00134473484375) (looses q 0.0957 0.0345 0.0546 0.0087 0.0268 0.074 0.0102 0.1136 0.8919)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0659) (bps q 13 28 43 56 72 87 101 120) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0527) (looseness-sd . 0.020788003601837284) (looseness-variance . 0.0004321410937499999) (looses q 0.0957 0.0345 0.0546 0.0686 0.0586 0.0482 0.0298 0.0317 0.8919)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0473) (bps q 16 32 48 64 80 97 116) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0229) (looseness-sd . 0.01526451132930396) (looseness-variance . 0.00023300530612244895) (looses q 0.0501 0.0028 0.0196 0.0206 0.0046 0.0312 0.0311 0.1056)) (fh-improved . 48) (bu-improved . 5) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, and only secondarily from a moral one.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0082) (bps q 17 36) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0194) (looseness-sd . 0.0041) (looseness-variance . 1.6810000000000003e-05) (looses q 0.0153 0.0235 0.7809)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0082) (bps q 13 27) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0194) (looseness-sd . 0.0041) (looseness-variance . 1.6810000000000003e-05) (looses q 0.0153 0.0235 0.7809)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0082) (bps q 13 27) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0194) (looseness-sd . 0.0041) (looseness-variance . 1.6810000000000003e-05) (looses q 0.0153 0.0235 0.7809)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0082) (bps q 17 36) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0194) (looseness-sd . 0.0041) (looseness-variance . 1.6810000000000003e-05) (looses q 0.0153 0.0235 0.7809)) (fh-improved . 13) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy side of the family, and never will be!”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0682) (bps q 13 29 45 61) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0509) (looseness-sd . 0.026747838697734064) (looseness-variance . 0.0007154468749999999) (looses q 0.0592 0.0653 0.0736 0.0054 0.9042)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1002) (bps q 14 28 39 54) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0493) (looseness-sd . 0.041957202897714714) (looseness-variance . 0.001760406875) (looses q 0.0125 0.1056 0.0736 0.0054 0.9042)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0682) (bps q 13 28 39 54) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0509) (looseness-sd . 0.026747838697734064) (looseness-variance . 0.0007154468749999999) (looses q 0.0592 0.0653 0.0736 0.0054 0.9042)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0968) (bps q 14 30 46 61) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.047) (looseness-sd . 0.03938282461936929) (looseness-variance . 0.0015510068749999997) (looses q 0.0125 0.0138 0.0525 0.1093 0.9042)) (fh-improved . 16) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0025) (bps q 17 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0372) (looseness-sd . 0.0012499999999999976) (looseness-variance . 1.5624999999999941e-06) (looses q 0.0384 0.0359 0.6085)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0025) (bps q 15 33) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0372) (looseness-sd . 0.0012499999999999976) (looseness-variance . 1.5624999999999941e-06) (looses q 0.0384 0.0359 0.6085)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0025) (bps q 15 33) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0372) (looseness-sd . 0.0012499999999999976) (looseness-variance . 1.5624999999999941e-06) (looses q 0.0384 0.0359 0.6085)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0025) (bps q 17 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0372) (looseness-sd . 0.0012499999999999976) (looseness-variance . 1.5624999999999941e-06) (looses q 0.0384 0.0359 0.6085)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor folk in Christminster with we.”") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0367) (bps q 15 32) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0416) (looseness-sd . 0.018349999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.0003367224999999999) (looses q 0.06 0.0233 0.7863)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0533) (bps q 14 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0866) (looseness-sd . 0.02665) (looseness-variance . 0.0007102225) (looses q 0.06 0.1133 0.7053)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0715) (bps q 13 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0834) (looseness-sd . 0.035750000000000004) (looseness-variance . 0.0012780625000000001) (looses q 0.1192 0.0477 0.7053)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0367) (bps q 15 32) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0416) (looseness-sd . 0.018349999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.0003367224999999999) (looses q 0.06 0.0233 0.7863)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 72) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0529) (bps q 17 36 52 67 83 100 115 131 150 170 187 204) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0331) (looseness-sd . 0.018822642614680862) (looseness-variance . 0.00035429187500000004) (looses q 0.0093 0.0554 0.0339 0.0312 0.0115 0.0538 0.0597 0.0068 0.044 0.0528 0.0168 0.0223 0.2122)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.1226) (bps q 14 33 47 62 73 86 100 112 128 145 158 171) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0332) (looseness-sd . 0.03307601094448966) (looseness-variance . 0.0010940225) (looses q 0.0093 0.0017 0.0509 0.0197 0.0215 0.0466 0.0053 0.1149 0.044 -0.0077 0.0705 0.0223 0.2122)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0917) (bps q 14 32 46 61 72 84 99 112 128 144 158 171) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0344) (looseness-sd . 0.02452840048913821) (looseness-variance . 0.0006016424305555556) (looses q 0.0093 0.0554 0.0339 0.0312 0.0985 0.0195 0.0218 0.0068 0.044 0.0528 0.0168 0.0223 0.2122)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 13) (looseness-spread . 0.0688) (bps q 17 37 53 68 84 101 116 132 151 171 187 204) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0319) (looseness-sd . 0.022030589529107022) (looseness-variance . 0.00048534687499999997) (looses q 0.0093 0.0017 0.0509 0.0197 0.0215 0.0466 0.0053 0.0639 0.0251 0.0463 0.0705 0.0223 0.2122)) (fh-improved . 192) (bu-improved . 8) (bh-improved . 9)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0086) (bps q 17 34 52) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.027) (looseness-sd . 0.0035562152165844333) (looseness-variance . 1.2646666666666667e-05) (looses q 0.0231 0.0262 0.0317 0.5461)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0086) (bps q 13 27 43) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.027) (looseness-sd . 0.0035562152165844333) (looseness-variance . 1.2646666666666667e-05) (looses q 0.0231 0.0262 0.0317 0.5461)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0086) (bps q 13 27 43) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.027) (looseness-sd . 0.0035562152165844333) (looseness-variance . 1.2646666666666667e-05) (looses q 0.0231 0.0262 0.0317 0.5461)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 31) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0086) (bps q 17 34 52) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.027) (looseness-sd . 0.0035562152165844333) (looseness-variance . 1.2646666666666667e-05) (looses q 0.0231 0.0262 0.0317 0.5461)) (fh-improved . 20) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak open down.") (measure . 360) (bh h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0932) (bps q 16 31 47 62 80 98 115 132 149) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0297) (looseness-sd . 0.025582131109404577) (looseness-variance . 0.0006544454320987654) (looses q 0.0223 0.0239 0.0828 0.0595 0.0326 0.0198 0.0264 -0.0104 0.0105 0.3993)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0932) (bps q 14 25 37 52 67 81 93 109 124) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0297) (looseness-sd . 0.027083041024063583) (looseness-variance . 0.000733491111111111) (looses q 0.0223 0.0239 0.0828 0.0228 0.0692 0.0198 0.0264 -0.0104 0.0105 0.3993)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0932) (bps q 14 25 37 51 67 81 93 109 124) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0297) (looseness-sd . 0.025582131109404577) (looseness-variance . 0.0006544454320987654) (looses q 0.0223 0.0239 0.0828 0.0595 0.0326 0.0198 0.0264 -0.0104 0.0105 0.3993)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0932) (bps q 16 31 47 63 81 98 115 132 149) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0287) (looseness-sd . 0.027382313837787907) (looseness-variance . 0.0007497911111111111) (looses q 0.0223 0.0239 0.0828 0.0228 0.0117 0.0683 0.0264 -0.0104 0.0105 0.3993)) (fh-improved . 130) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in moving house.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 55) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0571) (bps q 18 35 55 71 90 110 130 149) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0243) (looseness-sd . 0.01762288551145924) (looseness-variance . 0.00031056609374999997) (looses q 0.0026 0.0345 0.0572 0.0307 0.033 0.023 0.0001 0.0132 0.0889)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.1115) (bps q 13 29 43 56 69 87 101 114) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0335) (looseness-sd . 0.04243974957218763) (looseness-variance . 0.0018011323437499998) (looses q 0.0026 0.0345 0.1013 -0.0042 0.0022 0.0055 0.0185 0.1073 0.048)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 49) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.067) (bps q 12 28 43 56 69 86 100 114) (piece-count . 128) (avg-piece-length . 24.223222656249998) (avg-looseness . 0.0335) (looseness-sd . 0.022832484397235443) (looseness-variance . 0.00052132234375) (looses q 0.031 0.0506 0.0568 -0.0042 0.0022 0.0401 0.0284 0.0628 0.048)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0563) (bps q 18 35 56 72 92 112 131 149) (piece-count . 168) (avg-piece-length . 18.455788690476183) (avg-looseness . 0.0244) (looseness-sd . 0.01980495124331287) (looseness-variance . 0.00039223609375) (looses q 0.0026 0.0345 0.0424 0.0031 0.0014 0.0349 0.0185 0.0577 0.0889)) (fh-improved . 153) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 7)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and everything would be smooth again.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0018) (bps q 19 35) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0143) (looseness-sd . 0.0008999999999999998) (looseness-variance . 8.099999999999996e-07) (looses q 0.0152 0.0134 0.2833)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0018) (bps q 17 33) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0143) (looseness-sd . 0.0008999999999999998) (looseness-variance . 8.099999999999996e-07) (looses q 0.0152 0.0134 0.2833)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0018) (bps q 17 33) (piece-count . 43) (avg-piece-length . 22.20783720930233) (avg-looseness . 0.0143) (looseness-sd . 0.0008999999999999998) (looseness-variance . 8.099999999999996e-07) (looses q 0.0152 0.0134 0.2833)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0018) (bps q 19 35) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 20.3178085106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0143) (looseness-sd . 0.0008999999999999998) (looseness-variance . 8.099999999999996e-07) (looses q 0.0152 0.0134 0.2833)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary lodgings just at first.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0478) (bps q 18 35 55 74) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0313) (looseness-sd . 0.01778853212044209) (looseness-variance . 0.00031643187499999997) (looses q 0.0236 0.0127 0.0605 0.0285 0.768)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0637) (bps q 12 24 45 60) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0334) (looseness-sd . 0.023271159726150306) (looseness-variance . 0.0005415468749999999) (looses q 0.0711 0.0267 0.0074 0.0285 0.768)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0637) (bps q 12 24 45 60) (piece-count . 64) (avg-piece-length . 22.78150000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0334) (looseness-sd . 0.023271159726150306) (looseness-variance . 0.0005415468749999999) (looses q 0.0711 0.0267 0.0074 0.0285 0.768)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0442) (bps q 18 35 56 74) (piece-count . 79) (avg-piece-length . 18.455898734177218) (avg-looseness . 0.0314) (looseness-sd . 0.01628964394945451) (looseness-variance . 0.0002653525) (looses q 0.0236 0.0127 0.0322 0.0569 0.768)) (fh-improved . 42) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve found a place to settle in, sir.”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0265) (bps q 19 38 56) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0092) (looseness-sd . 0.011887341540011748) (looseness-variance . 0.00014130888888888888) (looses q 0.019 -0.0075 0.0162 0.5765)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0265) (bps q 15 33 50) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0092) (looseness-sd . 0.011887341540011748) (looseness-variance . 0.00014130888888888888) (looses q 0.019 -0.0075 0.0162 0.5765)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0265) (bps q 15 33 50) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 20.678982758620695) (avg-looseness . 0.0092) (looseness-sd . 0.011887341540011748) (looseness-variance . 0.00014130888888888888) (looses q 0.019 -0.0075 0.0162 0.5765)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0265) (bps q 19 38 56) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 18.452015384615382) (avg-looseness . 0.0092) (looseness-sd . 0.011887341540011748) (looseness-variance . 0.00014130888888888888) (looses q 0.019 -0.0075 0.0162 0.5765)) (fh-improved . 15) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy and the schoolmaster were left standing alone.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0108) (bps q 20 38 58) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0188) (looseness-sd . 0.004616155206325811) (looseness-variance . 2.1308888888888893e-05) (looses q 0.0252 0.0144 0.0169 0.2735)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0792) (bps q 15 31 46) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0382) (looseness-sd . 0.03243331620417499) (looseness-variance . 0.00105192) (looses q 0.076 -0.0032 0.0418 0.226)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0745) (bps q 15 30 46) (piece-count . 57) (avg-piece-length . 22.484719298245615) (avg-looseness . 0.0382) (looseness-sd . 0.03042327325511763) (looseness-variance . 0.0009255755555555555) (looses q 0.076 0.0372 0.0015 0.226)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0108) (bps q 20 38 58) (piece-count . 72) (avg-piece-length . 17.800402777777776) (avg-looseness . 0.0188) (looseness-sd . 0.004616155206325811) (looseness-variance . 2.1308888888888893e-05) (looses q 0.0252 0.0144 0.0169 0.2735)) (fh-improved . 24) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, but one who had attended the night school only during the present teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0277) (bps q 19 37 55 73) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0223) (looseness-sd . 0.009912964995398703) (looseness-variance . 9.826687500000001e-05) (looses q 0.0376 0.0214 0.0099 0.0202 0.3367)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0529) (bps q 16 29 43 58) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0329) (looseness-sd . 0.01985791718685522) (looseness-variance . 0.00039433687499999993) (looses q 0.0376 0.0214 0.0099 0.0628 0.3025)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0184) (bps q 16 29 42 58) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 25.235246153846152) (avg-looseness . 0.0345) (looseness-sd . 0.007605918747922568) (looseness-variance . 5.785000000000001e-05) (looses q 0.0376 0.0214 0.0392 0.0398 0.3025)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0379) (bps q 19 37 55 74) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 18.639670454545453) (avg-looseness . 0.0172) (looseness-sd . 0.01408305719650389) (looseness-variance . 0.00019833250000000002) (looses q 0.0376 0.0214 0.0099 -0.0003 0.3572)) (fh-improved . 39) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should have elsewhere.”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 25) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0633) (bps q 18 38 59 79 101) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0535) (looseness-sd . 0.02384822005936712) (looseness-variance . 0.0005687376000000001) (looses q 0.0643 0.0816 0.0703 0.0331 0.0183 0.145)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.1078) (bps q 14 30 45 62 79) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0552) (looseness-sd . 0.04366533636650472) (looseness-variance . 0.0019066615999999998) (looses q 0.1109 0.014 0.0996 0.0031 0.0483 0.145)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0926) (bps q 14 29 45 61 79) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 21.165935483870978) (avg-looseness . 0.0552) (looseness-sd . 0.03261827708509449) (looseness-variance . 0.001063952) (looses q 0.1109 0.0434 0.0703 0.0331 0.0183 0.145)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.021) (bps q 19 40 61 83 105) (piece-count . 119) (avg-piece-length . 16.541445378151263) (avg-looseness . 0.0151) (looseness-sd . 0.008066721762897243) (looseness-variance . 6.5072e-05) (looses q 0.0269 0.0183 0.0061 0.0059 0.0183 0.3202)) (fh-improved . 78) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 13)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0282) (bps q 17 36 53) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0094) (looseness-sd . 0.012071269840226237) (looseness-variance . 0.00014571555555555554) (looses q 0.0209 0.0145 -0.0073 0.1537)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 32) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0282) (bps q 14 26 42) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0094) (looseness-sd . 0.012071269840226237) (looseness-variance . 0.00014571555555555554) (looses q 0.0209 0.0145 -0.0073 0.1537)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0282) (bps q 14 26 42) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 25.338759259259252) (avg-looseness . 0.0094) (looseness-sd . 0.012071269840226237) (looseness-variance . 0.00014571555555555554) (looses q 0.0209 0.0145 -0.0073 0.1537)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0282) (bps q 17 36 53) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.830333333333336) (avg-looseness . 0.0094) (looseness-sd . 0.012071269840226237) (looseness-variance . 0.00014571555555555554) (looses q 0.0209 0.0145 -0.0073 0.1537)) (fh-improved . 24) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.023) (bps q 17 33) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0294) (looseness-sd . 0.0115) (looseness-variance . 0.00013225) (looses q 0.0179 0.0409 0.891)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0594) (bps q 14 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.081) (looseness-sd . 0.029700000000000004) (looseness-variance . 0.0008820900000000002) (looses q 0.1107 0.0513 0.8021)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0594) (bps q 14 27) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 25.383672413793107) (avg-looseness . 0.081) (looseness-sd . 0.029700000000000004) (looseness-variance . 0.0008820900000000002) (looses q 0.1107 0.0513 0.8021)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.023) (bps q 17 33) (piece-count . 34) (avg-piece-length . 21.65077941176471) (avg-looseness . 0.0294) (looseness-sd . 0.0115) (looseness-variance . 0.00013225) (looses q 0.0179 0.0409 0.891)) (fh-improved . 9) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. “Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt me out for old acquaintance’ sake.”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0021) (bps q 19 38) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.045) (looseness-sd . 0.0010500000000000023) (looseness-variance . 1.102500000000005e-06) (looses q 0.0461 0.044 0.0864)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0021) (bps q 17 34) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.045) (looseness-sd . 0.0010500000000000023) (looseness-variance . 1.102500000000005e-06) (looses q 0.0461 0.044 0.0864)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0021) (bps q 17 34) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 22.059) (avg-looseness . 0.045) (looseness-sd . 0.0010500000000000023) (looseness-variance . 1.102500000000005e-06) (looses q 0.0461 0.044 0.0864)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0021) (bps q 19 38) (piece-count . 54) (avg-piece-length . 18.791) (avg-looseness . 0.045) (looseness-sd . 0.0010500000000000023) (looseness-variance . 1.102500000000005e-06) (looses q 0.0461 0.044 0.0864)) (fh-improved . 6) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the hart’s-tongue fern.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 61) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0355) (bps q 18 35 54 74 91 111 130 151 173) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0091) (looseness-sd . 0.01331235386519224) (looseness-variance . 0.00017721876543209876) (looses q 0.0215 -0.0092 -0.0062 0.0193 0.0099 -0.0048 0.0012 0.0263 0.0238 0.3354)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0838) (bps q 14 31 48 65 79 94 111 125 141) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0302) (looseness-sd . 0.0302825949277065) (looseness-variance . 0.0009170355555555555) (looses q 0.0215 -0.0092 -0.0062 0.0193 0.0746 0.0602 -0.0005 0.06 0.0521 0.16)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.07) (bps q 14 30 47 64 78 94 110 124 141) (piece-count . 155) (avg-piece-length . 21.804370967741917) (avg-looseness . 0.0295) (looseness-sd . 0.022191189442859725) (looseness-variance . 0.000492448888888889) (looses q 0.0215 0.0404 -0.0049 0.0532 0.0436 0.0064 0.0651 0.0073 0.0329 0.16)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.063) (bps q 18 35 54 74 91 111 130 152 173) (piece-count . 184) (avg-piece-length . 18.36781249999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0091) (looseness-sd . 0.018988209467072775) (looseness-variance . 0.0003605520987654321) (looses q 0.0215 -0.0092 -0.0062 0.0193 0.0099 -0.0048 0.0012 -0.0037 0.0538 0.3354)) (fh-improved . 130) (bu-improved . 6) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place like this!”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 37) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.048) (bps q 21 39 56 77) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.024) (looseness-sd . 0.019784510987133345) (looseness-variance . 0.00039142687500000003) (looses q 0.0076 0.0505 0.0355 0.0025 0.1046)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1408) (bps q 14 30 47 64) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0468) (looseness-sd . 0.05646651109285927) (looseness-variance . 0.0031884668749999996) (looses q 0.1397 -0.0011 0.0041 0.0444 0.022)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.1408) (bps q 14 30 47 64) (piece-count . 81) (avg-piece-length . 20.762611111111113) (avg-looseness . 0.0468) (looseness-sd . 0.05646651109285927) (looseness-variance . 0.0031884668749999996) (looses q 0.1397 -0.0011 0.0041 0.0444 0.022)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.048) (bps q 21 39 56 77) (piece-count . 93) (avg-piece-length . 18.083564516129027) (avg-looseness . 0.024) (looseness-sd . 0.019784510987133345) (looseness-variance . 0.00039142687500000003) (looses q 0.0076 0.0505 0.0355 0.0025 0.1046)) (fh-improved . 38) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outcry:") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0258) (bps q 20 38) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0045) (looseness-sd . 0.012899999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.00016640999999999995) (looses q 0.0174 -0.0084 0.4618)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0258) (bps q 18 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0045) (looseness-sd . 0.012899999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.00016640999999999995) (looses q 0.0174 -0.0084 0.4618)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0258) (bps q 18 35) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.361797619047618) (avg-looseness . 0.0045) (looseness-sd . 0.012899999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.00016640999999999995) (looses q 0.0174 -0.0084 0.4618)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0258) (bps q 20 38) (piece-count . 47) (avg-piece-length . 19.089265957446806) (avg-looseness . 0.0045) (looseness-sd . 0.012899999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.00016640999999999995) (looses q 0.0174 -0.0084 0.4618)) (fh-improved . 5) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet of Marygreen.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0228) (bps q 17 36 54 71 85) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0041) (looseness-sd . 0.008381264821015979) (looseness-variance . 7.02456e-05) (looses q 0.0062 -0.0027 0.0194 -0.0034 0.0009 0.2891)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0228) (bps q 16 33 50 66 80) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0041) (looseness-sd . 0.008381264821015979) (looseness-variance . 7.02456e-05) (looses q 0.0062 -0.0027 0.0194 -0.0034 0.0009 0.2891)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0228) (bps q 16 33 50 66 80) (piece-count . 91) (avg-piece-length . 22.026670329670328) (avg-looseness . 0.0041) (looseness-sd . 0.008381264821015979) (looseness-variance . 7.02456e-05) (looses q 0.0062 -0.0027 0.0194 -0.0034 0.0009 0.2891)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0228) (bps q 17 36 54 71 85) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 19.84581188118812) (avg-looseness . 0.0041) (looseness-sd . 0.008381264821015979) (looseness-variance . 7.02456e-05) (looses q 0.0062 -0.0027 0.0194 -0.0034 0.0009 0.2891)) (fh-improved . 18) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses warranted to last five years.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 74) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.0437) (bps q 22 40 56 70 86 101 120 140 158 179 197 216 234) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0173) (looseness-sd . 0.014276239207759155) (looseness-variance . 0.00020381100591715975) (looses q -0.0036 0.0261 0.0226 0.015 0.0311 -0.0011 0.0401 -0.0024 0.0357 0.0258 0.0177 0.0014 0.0162 0.1942)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.107) (bps q 19 33 46 60 74 88 105 122 135 152 168 183 194) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0298) (looseness-sd . 0.03626965249775206) (looseness-variance . 0.0013154876923076922) (looses q -0.0036 0.0887 -0.0017 0.0412 0.0602 -0.0004 -0.0041 0.0227 0.017 -0.0106 0.0715 0.0101 0.0964 0.0691)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 64) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.0861) (bps q 18 33 46 60 74 87 104 119 134 150 167 181 193) (piece-count . 206) (avg-piece-length . 23.361524271844665) (avg-looseness . 0.0352) (looseness-sd . 0.0228831143657703) (looseness-variance . 0.000523636923076923) (looses q 0.0844 0.0007 -0.0017 0.0412 0.0602 0.0522 0.0256 0.0276 0.0244 0.0151 0.0448 0.0461 0.037 -0.0012)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 53) (line-count . 14) (looseness-spread . 0.0687) (bps q 22 41 57 70 86 101 120 140 159 179 197 216 234) (piece-count . 248) (avg-piece-length . 19.40513709677419) (avg-looseness . 0.0173) (looseness-sd . 0.02036993085015844) (looseness-variance . 0.0004149340828402366) (looses q -0.0036 0.0134 -0.0092 0.0595 0.0311 -0.0011 0.0401 -0.0024 0.0165 0.045 0.0177 0.0014 0.0162 0.1942)) (fh-improved . 243) (bu-improved . 13) (bh-improved . 3)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow pattern.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0554) (bps q 19 41 57 76) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0185) (looseness-sd . 0.019784131899075075) (looseness-variance . 0.00039141187499999996) (looses q -0.0075 0.0479 0.02 0.0137 0.2456)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0554) (bps q 15 30 43 60) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0185) (looseness-sd . 0.019784131899075075) (looseness-variance . 0.00039141187499999996) (looses q -0.0075 0.0479 0.02 0.0137 0.2456)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0554) (bps q 15 30 43 60) (piece-count . 73) (avg-piece-length . 22.551342465753432) (avg-looseness . 0.0185) (looseness-sd . 0.019784131899075075) (looseness-variance . 0.00039141187499999996) (looses q -0.0075 0.0479 0.02 0.0137 0.2456)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0554) (bps q 19 41 57 76) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 17.89400000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.0185) (looseness-sd . 0.019784131899075075) (looseness-variance . 0.00039141187499999996) (looses q -0.0075 0.0479 0.02 0.0137 0.2456)) (fh-improved . 45) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of the event, and indulging in predictions of his future.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0713) (bps q 19 36 52) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0379) (looseness-sd . 0.029392327041064457) (looseness-variance . 0.0008639088888888889) (looses q 0.0707 -0.0006 0.0437 0.0799)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0713) (bps q 15 29 42) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0379) (looseness-sd . 0.029392327041064457) (looseness-variance . 0.0008639088888888889) (looses q 0.0707 -0.0006 0.0437 0.0799)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0713) (bps q 15 29 42) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 24.681090909090905) (avg-looseness . 0.0379) (looseness-sd . 0.029392327041064457) (looseness-variance . 0.0008639088888888889) (looses q 0.0707 -0.0006 0.0437 0.0799)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0242) (bps q 20 36 52) (piece-count . 71) (avg-piece-length . 19.119154929577466) (avg-looseness . 0.0351) (looseness-sd . 0.011029153286731591) (looseness-variance . 0.00012164222222222226) (looses q 0.0195 0.042 0.0437 0.0799)) (fh-improved . 22) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps upon his face, moved aside.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 69) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0496) (bps q 16 33 56 73 91 111 129 148 167 185 204) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0175) (looseness-sd . 0.015671883546156715) (looseness-variance . 0.00024560793388429754) (looses q 0.0106 0.0033 -0.0088 0.0102 0.0018 0.0192 0.0408 0.0261 0.0141 0.0387 0.037 0.477)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0839) (bps q 16 30 45 59 74 91 108 126 146 162 177) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0289) (looseness-sd . 0.02707568821954455) (looseness-variance . 0.0007330928925619835) (looses q 0.0106 0.0577 0.036 0.0658 0.0208 0.0079 0.0125 -0.0004 -0.0006 0.0833 0.024 0.3844)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 62) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0662) (bps q 15 30 45 59 74 91 108 126 145 162 177) (piece-count . 187) (avg-piece-length . 21.34621390374331) (avg-looseness . 0.0289) (looseness-sd . 0.02063700439533856) (looseness-variance . 0.0004258859504132231) (looses q 0.0582 0.0101 0.036 0.0658 0.0208 0.0079 0.0125 -0.0004 0.0344 0.0482 0.024 0.3844)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0496) (bps q 16 33 56 73 91 111 129 148 167 185 204) (piece-count . 212) (avg-piece-length . 18.828971698113204) (avg-looseness . 0.0175) (looseness-sd . 0.015671883546156715) (looseness-variance . 0.00024560793388429754) (looses q 0.0106 0.0033 -0.0088 0.0102 0.0018 0.0192 0.0408 0.0261 0.0141 0.0387 0.037 0.477)) (fh-improved . 179) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0408) (bps q 19 37 55) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0331) (looseness-sd . 0.016705089044958724) (looseness-variance . 0.0002790599999999999) (looses q 0.0136 0.0544 0.0313 0.8013)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.1036) (bps q 16 30 44) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0457) (looseness-sd . 0.047989188597247844) (looseness-variance . 0.0023029622222222224) (looses q 0.0136 0.1135 0.0099 0.7719)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 30) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.061) (bps q 15 30 44) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 22.438142857142854) (avg-looseness . 0.0437) (looseness-sd . 0.025328025759795984) (looseness-variance . 0.000641508888888889) (looses q 0.0709 0.0502 0.0099 0.7719)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0408) (bps q 19 37 55) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 18.324483333333337) (avg-looseness . 0.0331) (looseness-sd . 0.016705089044958724) (looseness-variance . 0.0002790599999999999) (looses q 0.0136 0.0544 0.0313 0.8013)) (fh-improved . 21) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little maid should know such changes!”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 39) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0466) (bps q 18 37 57 76 93 112 131 148 166) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0191) (looseness-sd . 0.015115759089093283) (looseness-variance . 0.00022848617283950618) (looses q 0.0121 0.0437 0.0317 0.0231 -0.0029 0.0011 0.0052 0.0331 0.0246 0.3466)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0995) (bps q 14 27 43 62 80 95 114 131 149) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0316) (looseness-sd . 0.03627193589172397) (looseness-variance . 0.0013156533333333336) (looses q 0.0952 0.0974 0.0356 0.0061 -0.0021 0.0188 -0.0013 0.0159 0.0185 0.2444)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 57) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0995) (bps q 14 27 43 62 80 95 114 131 149) (piece-count . 161) (avg-piece-length . 20.713571428571417) (avg-looseness . 0.0316) (looseness-sd . 0.03627193589172397) (looseness-variance . 0.0013156533333333336) (looses q 0.0952 0.0974 0.0356 0.0061 -0.0021 0.0188 -0.0013 0.0159 0.0185 0.2444)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 41) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0466) (bps q 18 37 57 76 93 112 131 148 166) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.84115819209039) (avg-looseness . 0.0191) (looseness-sd . 0.015115759089093283) (looseness-variance . 0.00022848617283950618) (looses q 0.0121 0.0437 0.0317 0.0231 -0.0029 0.0011 0.0052 0.0331 0.0246 0.3466)) (fh-improved . 123) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, and he descended into the midst of it.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 43) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.036) (bps q 20 39 58 78 96) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0131) (looseness-sd . 0.012381017728765271) (looseness-variance . 0.00015328959999999996) (looses q 0.0308 -0.0052 0.0202 0.005 0.0146 0.0529)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.1013) (bps q 13 29 45 61 78 93) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0303) (looseness-sd . 0.03719178523395844) (looseness-variance . 0.001383228888888889) (looses q 0.0924 -0.0089 0.0057 0.0623 -0.0051 0.0352 0.9516)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0975) (bps q 13 28 44 61 78 93) (piece-count . 94) (avg-piece-length . 22.1060585106383) (avg-looseness . 0.0303) (looseness-sd . 0.034023602918496966) (looseness-variance . 0.0011576055555555555) (looses q 0.0924 0.051 0.0057 0.0024 -0.0051 0.0352 0.9516)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.036) (bps q 20 39 58 78 96) (piece-count . 111) (avg-piece-length . 18.720445945945947) (avg-looseness . 0.0131) (looseness-sd . 0.012381017728765271) (looseness-variance . 0.00015328959999999996) (looses q 0.0308 -0.0052 0.0202 0.005 0.0146 0.0529)) (fh-improved . 65) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 42) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0611) (bps q 18 36 56 74 91) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0293) (looseness-sd . 0.02303793393514271) (looseness-variance . 0.0005307464) (looses q 0.0196 0.0541 -0.0054 0.0227 0.0557 0.4793)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0606) (bps q 17 33 49 66 81) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0322) (looseness-sd . 0.022971373489628345) (looseness-variance . 0.0005276839999999999) (looses q 0.0196 0.0012 0.0618 0.0227 0.0557 0.4793)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 19) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0606) (bps q 17 33 49 66 81) (piece-count . 90) (avg-piece-length . 21.034011111111102) (avg-looseness . 0.0322) (looseness-sd . 0.022971373489628345) (looseness-variance . 0.0005276839999999999) (looses q 0.0196 0.0012 0.0618 0.0227 0.0557 0.4793)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0606) (bps q 18 37 56 74 91) (piece-count . 100) (avg-piece-length . 18.930609999999998) (avg-looseness . 0.0322) (looseness-sd . 0.022971373489628345) (looseness-variance . 0.0005276839999999999) (looses q 0.0196 0.0012 0.0618 0.0227 0.0557 0.4793)) (fh-improved . 30) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and in the other that of a granary good to feed in.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 82) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.0664) (bps q 18 38 56 72 89 107 124 142 161 179 197 216 234 254) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0241) (looseness-sd . 0.02121415223623232) (looseness-variance . 0.00045004025510204075) (looses q 0.0209 0.0681 0.0173 0.0521 0.0017 0.0159 0.0033 0.0447 0.0118 0.005 0.0206 0.0168 0.0028 0.0567 0.3338)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 55) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1085) (bps q 15 28 44 57 72 86 100 113 126 141 158 174 189 204) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0404) (looseness-sd . 0.03357991458097096) (looseness-variance . 0.0011276106632653062) (looses q 0.0674 0.0303 0.0173 0.0521 0.0017 0.0944 0.0444 0.0347 0.1005 -0.0032 0.0096 0.0566 -0.008 0.0679 0.1298)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 48) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.1017) (bps q 15 28 44 57 71 86 100 113 126 140 157 174 188 204) (piece-count . 220) (avg-piece-length . 23.064661363636375) (avg-looseness . 0.0403) (looseness-sd . 0.025799024067920534) (looseness-variance . 0.0006655896428571429) (looses q 0.0674 0.0303 0.0173 0.0521 0.0317 0.0644 0.0444 0.0347 0.1005 0.0537 0.0096 -0.0012 0.0447 0.0153 0.1298)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 54) (line-count . 15) (looseness-spread . 0.0833) (bps q 18 39 57 73 89 107 124 143 162 180 197 216 234 254) (piece-count . 267) (avg-piece-length . 19.004589887640453) (avg-looseness . 0.0237) (looseness-sd . 0.02638400102721499) (looseness-variance . 0.0006961155102040818) (looses q 0.0209 0.012 0.0104 0.0362 0.0745 0.0159 0.0033 -0.0052 0.0121 -0.0029 0.0781 0.0168 0.0028 0.0567 0.3338)) (fh-improved . 386) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 6)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0669) (bps q 16 34 51) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.033) (looseness-sd . 0.02754273447249242) (looseness-variance . 0.0007586022222222222) (looses q 0.0639 0.038 -0.003 0.079)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0669) (bps q 14 30 43) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.033) (looseness-sd . 0.02754273447249242) (looseness-variance . 0.0007586022222222222) (looses q 0.0639 0.038 -0.003 0.079)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 34) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0669) (bps q 14 30 43) (piece-count . 56) (avg-piece-length . 24.42600000000001) (avg-looseness . 0.033) (looseness-sd . 0.02754273447249242) (looseness-variance . 0.0007586022222222222) (looses q 0.0639 0.038 -0.003 0.079)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0669) (bps q 16 34 51) (piece-count . 69) (avg-piece-length . 19.823999999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.033) (looseness-sd . 0.02754273447249242) (looseness-variance . 0.0007586022222222222) (looses q 0.0639 0.038 -0.003 0.079)) (fh-improved . 14) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted anew.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0481) (bps q 17 34 49 67 86) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0138) (looseness-sd . 0.0162996441678952) (looseness-variance . 0.00026567839999999996) (looses q 0.0247 0.0372 0.0075 -0.0109 0.0103 0.3577)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0481) (bps q 15 30 45 60 78) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0138) (looseness-sd . 0.0162996441678952) (looseness-variance . 0.00026567839999999996) (looses q 0.0247 0.0372 0.0075 -0.0109 0.0103 0.3577)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 38) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0481) (bps q 15 30 45 60 78) (piece-count . 88) (avg-piece-length . 22.34868181818182) (avg-looseness . 0.0138) (looseness-sd . 0.0162996441678952) (looseness-variance . 0.00026567839999999996) (looses q 0.0247 0.0372 0.0075 -0.0109 0.0103 0.3577)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0481) (bps q 17 34 49 67 86) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.275092783505155) (avg-looseness . 0.0138) (looseness-sd . 0.0162996441678952) (looseness-variance . 0.00026567839999999996) (looses q 0.0247 0.0372 0.0075 -0.0109 0.0103 0.3577)) (fh-improved . 25) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a good meal!”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0066) (bps q 15 31) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0498) (looseness-sd . 0.003300000000000001) (looseness-variance . 1.0890000000000006e-05) (looses q 0.0531 0.0465 0.4129)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0066) (bps q 13 29) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0498) (looseness-sd . 0.003300000000000001) (looseness-variance . 1.0890000000000006e-05) (looses q 0.0531 0.0465 0.4129)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0066) (bps q 13 29) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 23.122371794871793) (avg-looseness . 0.0498) (looseness-sd . 0.003300000000000001) (looseness-variance . 1.0890000000000006e-05) (looses q 0.0531 0.0465 0.4129)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0066) (bps q 15 31) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.47077380952381) (avg-looseness . 0.0498) (looseness-sd . 0.003300000000000001) (looseness-variance . 1.0890000000000006e-05) (looses q 0.0531 0.0465 0.4129)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much resembled his own.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0591) (bps q 15 32) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0645) (looseness-sd . 0.02955) (looseness-variance . 0.0008732025) (looses q 0.094 0.0349 0.3489)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0591) (bps q 15 30) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0645) (looseness-sd . 0.02955) (looseness-variance . 0.0008732025) (looses q 0.094 0.0349 0.3489)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0591) (bps q 15 30) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 22.989679487179494) (avg-looseness . 0.0645) (looseness-sd . 0.02955) (looseness-variance . 0.0008732025) (looses q 0.094 0.0349 0.3489)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0591) (bps q 15 32) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 21.34755952380953) (avg-looseness . 0.0645) (looseness-sd . 0.02955) (looseness-variance . 0.0008732025) (looses q 0.094 0.0349 0.3489)) (fh-improved . 2) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the clacker swinging in his hand.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 50) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0414) (bps q 18 37 55 71 90 107) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0201) (looseness-sd . 0.014337450958939669) (looseness-variance . 0.00020556250000000002) (looses q 0.0374 0.0297 0.0075 -0.004 0.0195 0.0302 0.2795)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0414) (bps q 17 33 48 62 77 91) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0201) (looseness-sd . 0.014337450958939669) (looseness-variance . 0.00020556250000000002) (looses q 0.0374 0.0297 0.0075 -0.004 0.0195 0.0302 0.2795)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0414) (bps q 17 33 48 62 77 91) (piece-count . 101) (avg-piece-length . 23.255049504950488) (avg-looseness . 0.0201) (looseness-sd . 0.014337450958939669) (looseness-variance . 0.00020556250000000002) (looses q 0.0374 0.0297 0.0075 -0.004 0.0195 0.0302 0.2795)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 15) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0414) (bps q 18 37 55 71 90 107) (piece-count . 120) (avg-piece-length . 19.57299999999999) (avg-looseness . 0.0201) (looseness-sd . 0.014337450958939669) (looseness-variance . 0.00020556250000000002) (looses q 0.0374 0.0297 0.0075 -0.004 0.0195 0.0302 0.2795)) (fh-improved . 50) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, ‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0273) (bps q 16 32 49) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0253) (looseness-sd . 0.011851582172857764) (looseness-variance . 0.00014045999999999997) (looses q 0.0196 0.0418 0.0145 0.1994)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0273) (bps q 16 32 46) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0253) (looseness-sd . 0.011851582172857764) (looseness-variance . 0.00014045999999999997) (looses q 0.0196 0.0418 0.0145 0.1994)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0273) (bps q 16 32 46) (piece-count . 60) (avg-piece-length . 22.25863333333333) (avg-looseness . 0.0253) (looseness-sd . 0.011851582172857764) (looseness-variance . 0.00014045999999999997) (looses q 0.0196 0.0418 0.0145 0.1994)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0273) (bps q 16 32 49) (piece-count . 65) (avg-piece-length . 20.546430769230764) (avg-looseness . 0.0253) (looseness-sd . 0.011851582172857764) (looseness-variance . 0.00014045999999999997) (looses q 0.0196 0.0418 0.0145 0.1994)) (fh-improved . 3) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0331) (bps q 14 31 50) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0188) (looseness-sd . 0.013575058829420306) (looseness-variance . 0.0001842822222222222) (looses q 0.017 0.0363 0.0032 0.0911)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0331) (bps q 12 28 46) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0188) (looseness-sd . 0.013575058829420306) (looseness-variance . 0.0001842822222222222) (looses q 0.017 0.0363 0.0032 0.0911)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0331) (bps q 12 28 46) (piece-count . 59) (avg-piece-length . 23.283406779661018) (avg-looseness . 0.0188) (looseness-sd . 0.013575058829420306) (looseness-variance . 0.0001842822222222222) (looses q 0.017 0.0363 0.0032 0.0911)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0331) (bps q 14 31 50) (piece-count . 67) (avg-piece-length . 20.503298507462688) (avg-looseness . 0.0188) (looseness-sd . 0.013575058829420306) (looseness-variance . 0.0001842822222222222) (looses q 0.017 0.0363 0.0032 0.0911)) (fh-improved . 9) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 45) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0602) (bps q 15 35 53 74 94) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0227) (looseness-sd . 0.02030964302985161) (looseness-variance . 0.0004124816) (looses q 0.0553 0.0305 0.0231 -0.0049 0.0094 0.0303)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 35) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0616) (bps q 14 28 45 62 80) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0227) (looseness-sd . 0.020711001907198982) (looseness-variance . 0.00042894559999999995) (looses q 0.0553 0.0305 -0.0063 0.0245 0.0094 0.0303)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0602) (bps q 14 28 44 62 80) (piece-count . 97) (avg-piece-length . 20.554886597938147) (avg-looseness . 0.0227) (looseness-sd . 0.02030964302985161) (looseness-variance . 0.0004124816) (looses q 0.0553 0.0305 0.0231 -0.0049 0.0094 0.0303)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 13) (line-count . 6) (looseness-spread . 0.0616) (bps q 15 35 54 74 94) (piece-count . 112) (avg-piece-length . 17.802) (avg-looseness . 0.0227) (looseness-sd . 0.020711001907198982) (looseness-variance . 0.00042894559999999995) (looses q 0.0553 0.0305 -0.0063 0.0245 0.0094 0.0303)) (fh-improved . 43) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for God and man.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 24) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0497) (bps q 18 35 55 75 91 107) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0197) (looseness-sd . 0.019877849201784606) (looseness-variance . 0.0003951288888888889) (looses q 0.0447 -0.004 0.0425 -0.005 0.0147 0.0251 0.4934)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 14) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0793) (bps q 14 28 44 57 71 84) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0279) (looseness-sd . 0.028872747627400403) (looseness-variance . 0.0008336355555555557) (looses q -0.0048 0.0455 0.0425 -0.005 0.0147 0.0743 0.4525)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0696) (bps q 13 28 44 57 70 84) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 24.624875) (avg-looseness . 0.0279) (looseness-sd . 0.02567056788533428) (looseness-variance . 0.0006589780555555557) (looses q 0.0447 -0.004 0.0425 -0.005 0.0646 0.0245 0.4525)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 7) (looseness-spread . 0.0505) (bps q 19 35 55 75 91 107) (piece-count . 116) (avg-piece-length . 19.530073275862062) (avg-looseness . 0.0197) (looseness-sd . 0.02020714944985781) (looseness-variance . 0.0004083288888888889) (looses q -0.0048 0.0455 0.0425 -0.005 0.0147 0.0251 0.4934)) (fh-improved . 84) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and never let him see him in one of those fields again.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0094) (bps q 17 37) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.015) (looseness-sd . 0.004699999999999999) (looseness-variance . 2.2089999999999993e-05) (looses q 0.0103 0.0197 0.0359)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0094) (bps q 13 31) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.015) (looseness-sd . 0.004699999999999999) (looseness-variance . 2.2089999999999993e-05) (looses q 0.0103 0.0197 0.0359)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 10) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0094) (bps q 13 31) (piece-count . 49) (avg-piece-length . 21.126204081632654) (avg-looseness . 0.015) (looseness-sd . 0.004699999999999999) (looseness-variance . 2.2089999999999993e-05) (looses q 0.0103 0.0197 0.0359)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 29) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0094) (bps q 17 37) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 18.821527272727277) (avg-looseness . 0.015) (looseness-sd . 0.004699999999999999) (looseness-variance . 2.2089999999999993e-05) (looses q 0.0103 0.0197 0.0359)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for life.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 38) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0273) (bps q 16 35 52 70) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0197) (looseness-sd . 0.013404663367649334) (looseness-variance . 0.00017968499999999996) (looses q 0.0326 0.0063 0.0063 0.0336 0.1614)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0906) (bps q 14 30 44 59) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0404) (looseness-sd . 0.03246385490048894) (looseness-variance . 0.0010539018749999999) (looses q 0.0326 0.0475 0.086 -0.0046 0.0798)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0906) (bps q 14 30 44 59) (piece-count . 77) (avg-piece-length . 21.743512987012977) (avg-looseness . 0.0404) (looseness-sd . 0.03246385490048894) (looseness-variance . 0.0010539018749999999) (looses q 0.0326 0.0475 0.086 -0.0046 0.0798)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0273) (bps q 16 35 52 70) (piece-count . 87) (avg-piece-length . 19.24425862068965) (avg-looseness . 0.0197) (looseness-sd . 0.013404663367649334) (looseness-variance . 0.00017968499999999996) (looses q 0.0326 0.0063 0.0063 0.0336 0.1614)) (fh-improved . 26) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them at each tread.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 36) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0621) (bps q 19 36 54 72) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0384) (looseness-sd . 0.025975216553476507) (looseness-variance . 0.000674711875) (looses q 0.0622 0.063 0.0009 0.0274 0.0248)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0738) (bps q 18 33 47 64) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0369) (looseness-sd . 0.029456440297496913) (looseness-variance . 0.0008676818750000001) (looses q -0.0019 0.0196 0.0579 0.0719 0.0248)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 17) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0621) (bps q 17 31 46 64) (piece-count . 78) (avg-piece-length . 21.881698717948716) (avg-looseness . 0.0384) (looseness-sd . 0.025975216553476507) (looseness-variance . 0.000674711875) (looses q 0.0622 0.063 0.0009 0.0274 0.0248)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 5) (looseness-spread . 0.0738) (bps q 20 38 55 72) (piece-count . 92) (avg-piece-length . 18.551874999999995) (avg-looseness . 0.0369) (looseness-sd . 0.029456440297496913) (looseness-variance . 0.0008676818750000001) (looses q -0.0019 0.0196 0.0579 0.0719 0.0248)) (fh-improved . 23) (bu-improved . 4) (bh-improved . 4)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe among the earthworms, without killing a single one.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 61) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0594) (bps q 16 33 52 70 89 109 130 150 169) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0239) (looseness-sd . 0.018589191071462955) (looseness-variance . 0.000345558024691358) (looses q 0.0451 0.062 0.0215 0.0363 0.0118 0.0095 0.0119 0.014 0.0026 0.5282)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 21) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0692) (bps q 15 31 47 62 80 96 114 130 146) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0248) (looseness-sd . 0.02425111426738731) (looseness-variance . 0.0005881165432098765) (looses q 0.0451 -0.0019 0.0227 0.0673 -0.001 0.024 0.0118 0.0001 0.055 0.5282)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 58) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.063) (bps q 15 30 46 62 80 96 114 130 146) (piece-count . 151) (avg-piece-length . 21.62266556291391) (avg-looseness . 0.0248) (looseness-sd . 0.022529585487137183) (looseness-variance . 0.0005075822222222223) (looses q 0.0451 0.062 0.0215 0.0047 -0.001 0.024 0.0118 0.0001 0.055 0.5282)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 22) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.0692) (bps q 16 34 53 71 90 110 131 151 169) (piece-count . 177) (avg-piece-length . 18.446454802259886) (avg-looseness . 0.0248) (looseness-sd . 0.02425111426738731) (looseness-variance . 0.0005881165432098765) (looses q 0.0451 -0.0019 0.0227 0.0673 -0.001 0.024 0.0118 0.0001 0.055 0.5282)) (fh-improved . 104) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 7)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 26) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0169) (bps q 22 41) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.005) (looseness-sd . 0.00845) (looseness-variance . 7.14025e-05) (looses q -0.0035 0.0134 0.6702)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0713) (bps q 18 35) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0322) (looseness-sd . 0.03565) (looseness-variance . 0.0012709225) (looses q -0.0035 0.0678 0.6242)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0713) (bps q 18 35) (piece-count . 41) (avg-piece-length . 19.870878048780487) (avg-looseness . 0.0322) (looseness-sd . 0.03565) (looseness-variance . 0.0012709225) (looses q -0.0035 0.0678 0.6242)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0169) (bps q 22 41) (piece-count . 48) (avg-piece-length . 16.973041666666667) (avg-looseness . 0.005) (looseness-sd . 0.00845) (looseness-variance . 7.14025e-05) (looses q -0.0035 0.0134 0.6702)) (fh-improved . 10) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of mischty.”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 49) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0335) (bps q 18 35 50 69 87 105 126) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0225) (looseness-sd . 0.011450514648446406) (looseness-variance . 0.00013111428571428572) (looses q 0.0404 0.0361 0.0174 0.0237 0.0069 0.0224 0.0106 0.7197)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0343) (bps q 15 31 46 64 80 96 116) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0225) (looseness-sd . 0.0123266759012927) (looseness-variance . 0.0001519469387755102) (looses q 0.0404 0.0361 0.0174 0.0237 0.0069 0.0061 0.0268 0.7197)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 51) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0335) (bps q 15 31 46 64 80 95 116) (piece-count . 121) (avg-piece-length . 20.860904958677686) (avg-looseness . 0.0225) (looseness-sd . 0.011450514648446406) (looseness-variance . 0.00013111428571428572) (looses q 0.0404 0.0361 0.0174 0.0237 0.0069 0.0224 0.0106 0.7197)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 16) (line-count . 8) (looseness-spread . 0.0343) (bps q 18 35 50 69 87 106 126) (piece-count . 132) (avg-piece-length . 19.122496212121213) (avg-looseness . 0.0225) (looseness-sd . 0.0123266759012927) (looseness-variance . 0.0001519469387755102) (looses q 0.0404 0.0361 0.0174 0.0237 0.0069 0.0061 0.0268 0.7197)) (fh-improved . 43) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, and only secondarily from a moral one.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0152) (bps q 18 38) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0534) (looseness-sd . 0.007599999999999999) (looseness-variance . 5.775999999999999e-05) (looses q 0.061 0.0458 0.8806)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 4) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1112) (bps q 15 29) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0566) (looseness-sd . 0.0556) (looseness-variance . 0.0030913599999999996) (looses q 0.001 0.1122 0.8806)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0152) (bps q 14 29) (piece-count . 30) (avg-piece-length . 24.077166666666663) (avg-looseness . 0.0534) (looseness-sd . 0.007599999999999999) (looseness-variance . 5.775999999999999e-05) (looses q 0.061 0.0458 0.8806)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.1112) (bps q 19 38) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 18.52089743589744) (avg-looseness . 0.0566) (looseness-sd . 0.0556) (looseness-variance . 0.0030913599999999996) (looses q 0.001 0.1122 0.8806)) (fh-improved . 13) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy side of the family, and never will be!”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 12) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0726) (bps q 14 31 48) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0489) (looseness-sd . 0.030003999733368883) (looseness-variance . 0.00090024) (looses q 0.0885 0.0423 0.0159 0.2397)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0772) (bps q 14 29 42) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0517) (looseness-sd . 0.03161564310414844) (looseness-variance . 0.0009995488888888888) (looses q 0.0885 0.0113 0.0552 0.2397)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 33) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0772) (bps q 14 29 42) (piece-count . 55) (avg-piece-length . 23.238363636363637) (avg-looseness . 0.0517) (looseness-sd . 0.03161564310414844) (looseness-variance . 0.0009995488888888888) (looses q 0.0885 0.0113 0.0552 0.2397)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0772) (bps q 14 32 48) (piece-count . 62) (avg-piece-length . 20.614677419354845) (avg-looseness . 0.0517) (looseness-sd . 0.03161564310414844) (looseness-variance . 0.0009995488888888888) (looses q 0.0885 0.0113 0.0552 0.2397)) (fh-improved . 9) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 1)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 8) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0404) (bps q 18 38) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0228) (looseness-sd . 0.0202) (looseness-variance . 0.0004080399999999999) (looses q 0.043 0.0026 0.8218)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0404) (bps q 16 36) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0228) (looseness-sd . 0.0202) (looseness-variance . 0.0004080399999999999) (looses q 0.043 0.0026 0.8218)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0404) (bps q 16 36) (piece-count . 39) (avg-piece-length . 19.458884615384616) (avg-looseness . 0.0228) (looseness-sd . 0.0202) (looseness-variance . 0.0004080399999999999) (looses q 0.043 0.0026 0.8218)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0404) (bps q 18 38) (piece-count . 42) (avg-piece-length . 18.068964285714287) (avg-looseness . 0.0228) (looseness-sd . 0.0202) (looseness-variance . 0.0004080399999999999) (looses q 0.043 0.0026 0.8218)) (fh-improved . 4) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor folk in Christminster with we.”") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0495) (bps q 16 34) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0682) (looseness-sd . 0.024749999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.0006125624999999998) (looses q 0.0434 0.0929 0.8996)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0495) (bps q 15 28) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0682) (looseness-sd . 0.024749999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.0006125624999999998) (looses q 0.0434 0.0929 0.8996)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 6) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0495) (bps q 15 28) (piece-count . 29) (avg-piece-length . 24.820965517241376) (avg-looseness . 0.0682) (looseness-sd . 0.024749999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.0006125624999999998) (looses q 0.0434 0.0929 0.8996)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 5) (line-count . 3) (looseness-spread . 0.0495) (bps q 16 34) (piece-count . 35) (avg-piece-length . 20.56594285714286) (avg-looseness . 0.0682) (looseness-sd . 0.024749999999999998) (looseness-variance . 0.0006125624999999998) (looses q 0.0434 0.0929 0.8996)) (fh-improved . 7) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped it.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 72) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0655) (bps q 19 40 57 74 92 107 125 145 167 186 204) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0246) (looseness-sd . 0.01664528821723165) (looseness-variance . 0.0002770656198347108) (looses q -0.007 0.0268 0.0343 0.0311 0.0318 0.0585 0.0224 0.0017 0.0128 0.0284 0.0295 0.2728)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 47) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0694) (bps q 16 36 51 67 77 92 107 124 142 157 171) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0253) (looseness-sd . 0.021266117854348527) (looseness-variance . 0.0004522477685950412) (looses q -0.007 0.0268 0.0343 0.0027 0.0602 0.0269 0.0624 0.0017 0.0128 0.0284 0.0295 0.2728)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 59) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0694) (bps q 16 36 51 66 77 92 107 124 142 157 171) (piece-count . 183) (avg-piece-length . 22.141773224043693) (avg-looseness . 0.0253) (looseness-sd . 0.017377742960845724) (looseness-variance . 0.0003019859504132231) (looses q -0.007 0.0268 0.0343 0.0311 0.0318 0.0269 0.0624 0.0017 0.0128 0.0284 0.0295 0.2728)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 27) (line-count . 12) (looseness-spread . 0.0694) (bps q 19 40 57 75 92 108 125 145 167 186 204) (piece-count . 217) (avg-piece-length . 18.67255529953916) (avg-looseness . 0.0253) (looseness-sd . 0.021266117854348527) (looseness-variance . 0.0004522477685950412) (looses q -0.007 0.0268 0.0343 0.0027 0.0602 0.0269 0.0624 0.0017 0.0128 0.0284 0.0295 0.2728)) (fh-improved . 178) (bu-improved . 1) (bh-improved . 2)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 11) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0429) (bps q 18 36 55) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0305) (looseness-sd . 0.017715216309401614) (looseness-variance . 0.0003138288888888889) (looses q 0.0538 0.0267 0.0109 0.7953)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 7) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0429) (bps q 14 29 45) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.0305) (looseness-sd . 0.017715216309401614) (looseness-variance . 0.0003138288888888889) (looses q 0.0538 0.0267 0.0109 0.7953)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 9) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0429) (bps q 14 29 45) (piece-count . 46) (avg-piece-length . 24.25525) (avg-looseness . 0.0305) (looseness-sd . 0.017715216309401614) (looseness-variance . 0.0003138288888888889) (looses q 0.0538 0.0267 0.0109 0.7953)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 1857) (line-count . 4) (looseness-spread . 0.0429) (bps q 18 36 55) (piece-count . 58) (avg-piece-length . 19.236922413793103) (avg-looseness . 0.0305) (looseness-sd . 0.017715216309401614) (looseness-variance . 0.0003138288888888889) (looses q 0.0538 0.0267 0.0109 0.7953)) (fh-improved . 21) (bu-improved . 0) (bh-improved . 0)) c (h - (equal) (text u . "The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak open down.") (measure . 390) (bh h - (equal) (time . 55) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0535) (bps q 17 34 51 69 90 108 126 145) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0258) (looseness-sd . 0.02203088740836374) (looseness-variance . 0.00048536) (looses q 0.0195 0.0533 -0.0001 0.0467 0.0029 0.0316 -0.0002 0.0531 0.1607)) (fu h - (equal) (time . 18) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1422) (bps q 15 26 39 56 72 85 99 116 132) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.0462856855988763) (looseness-variance . 0.002142364691358025) (looses q 0.0195 0.1325 0.0385 0.057 0.0173 0.1273 0.0228 0.0461 -0.0097 0.9333)) (bu h - (equal) (time . 28) (line-count . 10) (looseness-spread . 0.1072) (bps q 14 26 39 56 71 85 99 116 132) (piece-count . 133) (avg-piece-length . 23.000172932330816) (avg-looseness . 0.0501) (looseness-sd . 0.029710196944300722) (looseness-variance . 0.000882695802469136) (looses q 0.0975 0.0545 0.0385 0.057 0.063 0.0816 0.0228 0.0461 -0.0097 0.9333)) (fh h - (equal) (time . 20) (line-count . 9) (looseness-spread . 0.0535) (bps q 17 34 51 69 90 108 126 145) (piece-count . 158) (avg-piece-length . 19.360905063291128) (avg-looseness . 0.0258) (looseness-sd . 0.02203088740836374) (looseness-variance . 0.00048536) (looses q 0.0195 0.0533 -0.0001 0.0467 0.0029 0.0316 -0.0002 0.0531 0.1607)) (fh-improved . 132) (bu-improved . 2) (bh-improved . 0)))) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/stats.rkt b/quad/stats.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..657d8fdb --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/stats.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,194 @@ +#lang racket +(require math/statistics sugar racket/serialize plot) +(require (except-in "quads.rkt" line) "utils.rkt" "wrap.rkt" "world.rkt" "measure.rkt" "logger.rkt" "main.rkt") + +(define+provide (make-wrap-proc-bps + #:make-pieces-proc make-pieces-proc + #:measure-quad-proc measure-quad-proc + #:compose-line-proc compose-line-proc + #:fast-measure-pieces-proc [fast-measure-pieces-proc (compose1 measure-quad-proc compose-line-proc)] + #:find-breakpoints-proc find-breakpoints-proc) + (λ(qs [measure #f]) + (let* ([measure (or measure (quad-attr-ref/parameter (car qs) world:measure-key))] + [qs (if (quad-has-attr? (car qs) world:measure-key) + qs + (map (curryr quad-attr-set world:measure-key measure) qs))]) + (log-quad-debug "wrapping on measure = ~a" measure) + (define pieces (make-pieces-proc qs)) + + (log-quad-debug "avg piece length for breakpoints = ~a" + (/ (for/sum ([p (in-list pieces)]) + (for/sum ([q (in-list (quad-list p))]) + (define str (quad->string q)) + (if (equal? str "") + (quad-attr-ref q world:width-key 0) + (apply measure-text (quad->string q) (font-attributes-with-defaults q))))) + (length pieces))) + + (define bps (find-breakpoints-proc (list->vector pieces) (+ 0.0 measure))) + (values pieces bps (map (curryr compose-line-proc measure-quad-proc) (break-at pieces bps)))))) + +;; wrap proc based on greedy proc +(define wrap-first-bps (make-wrap-proc-bps + #:make-pieces-proc (make-caching-proc make-pieces) + #:measure-quad-proc quad-width + #:compose-line-proc pieces->line + #:fast-measure-pieces-proc measure-potential-line + #:find-breakpoints-proc first-fit-proc)) + +;; wrap proc based on penalty function +(define wrap-best-bps (make-wrap-proc-bps + #:make-pieces-proc (make-caching-proc make-pieces) + #:measure-quad-proc quad-width + #:compose-line-proc pieces->line + #:fast-measure-pieces-proc measure-potential-line + #:find-breakpoints-proc best-fit-proc)) + +(define ti (block '(measure 54 leading 18) "Meg is an ally.")) + + +(define (looseness-spread lines) + (if (<= (length lines) 1) + 0 + (let ([lines-to-measure (drop-right lines 1)]) ; exclude last line from looseness calculation + (define measures (map (λ(line) (quad-attr-ref line world:line-looseness-key 0)) lines-to-measure)) + (round-float (- (apply max measures) (apply min measures)))))) + +(define (geometric-mean lines) + (if (<= (length lines) 1) + 0 + (let ([lines-to-measure (drop-right lines 1)]) ; exclude last line from looseness calculation + (define measures (map (λ(line) (quad-attr-ref line world:line-looseness-key 0)) lines-to-measure)) + (expt (apply * measures) (/ 1 (length measures)))))) + +(define (looseness-stddev lines) + (if (<= (length lines) 1) + 0 + (let ([lines-to-measure (drop-right lines 1)]) ; exclude last line from looseness calculation + (define measures (map (λ(line) (quad-attr-ref line world:line-looseness-key 0)) lines-to-measure)) + (stddev measures)))) + +(define (looseness-var lines) + (if (<= (length lines) 1) + 0 + (let ([lines-to-measure (drop-right lines 1)]) ; exclude last line from looseness calculation + (define measures (map (λ(line) (quad-attr-ref line world:line-looseness-key 0)) lines-to-measure)) + (variance measures)))) + + + +(define (list->hash0 . xs) + (define mh (make-hash)) + (for ([(k v) (in-hash (apply hash xs))]) + (hash-set! mh k v)) + mh) + +(define (piece-length p) + (apply + (map quad-width-fast (quad-list p)))) + +(define (trial wrap-proc ti measure) + (match-define-values (result time _ _) (time-apply wrap-proc (append (list ti) (list measure)))) + (match-define (list pieces bps lines) result) + (define line-count (length lines)) + (define piece-count (length pieces)) + (define avg-piece-length (/ (apply + (map piece-length pieces)) (length pieces))) + (define avg-looseness (average-looseness lines)) + (define looseness-sd (looseness-stddev lines)) + (define looseness-variance (looseness-var lines)) + (define spread (looseness-spread lines)) + (define looses (map (λ(line) (quad-attr-ref line world:line-looseness-key 0)) lines)) + (hash 'bps bps 'time time 'line-count line-count 'looses looses + 'piece-count piece-count 'avg-piece-length avg-piece-length + 'avg-looseness avg-looseness 'looseness-spread spread + 'looseness-sd looseness-sd + 'looseness-variance looseness-variance)) + + +(define (improved? h1 h2) + (define h1-bps (if (hash? h1) (hash-ref h1 'bps) h1)) + (define h2-bps (if (hash? h2) (hash-ref h2 'bps) h2)) + (define min-length (min (length h1-bps) (length h2-bps))) + (apply + (map abs (map - (take h1-bps min-length) (take h2-bps min-length))))) + + +(define (trial-set measure ti) + (define text (quad->string ti)) + + (define ti-unhyphenated (split-quad ti)) + (define fu (trial wrap-first-bps ti-unhyphenated measure)) + (define bu (trial wrap-best-bps ti-unhyphenated measure)) + (define ti-hyphenated (split-quad (hyphenate-quad ti))) + (define fh (trial wrap-first-bps ti-hyphenated measure)) + (define bh (trial wrap-best-bps ti-hyphenated measure)) + + (hash 'fu fu 'bu bu 'fh fh 'bh bh + 'text text + 'measure measure + 'fh-improved (improved? fu fh) + 'bu-improved (improved? fu bu) + 'bh-improved (improved? fh bh))) + +(define (make-blocks textfile) + (define strings (filter (λ(s) (> (string-length s) 10)) (map (λ(s) (regexp-replace* #rx"\n" s " ")) (map string-trim (string-split (file->string textfile) "\n\n"))))) + (map (λ(t) (block '(font "Equity Text B" leading 14 column-count 1 column-gutter 10 size 11.5 x-align justify x-align-last-line left) t)) strings)) + +(define (refresh [filename "jude0.txt"] [measures '(150 180 210 240 270 300 330 360 390)]) + (define paragraphs (make-blocks filename)) + ;; only use paragraphs > 2 lines because last line is disregarded for looseness spread calculation + (define results (filter + (λ(rec) (> (hash-ref (hash-ref rec 'fu) 'line-count) 2)) (append-map (compose1 (λ(m) (map (λ(p) (trial-set m p)) paragraphs)) (λ(m) (report m))) measures))) + (write-to-file (serialize results) "stats-data.txt" #:exists 'replace)) + +(define (load-data-records) + (deserialize (file->value "stats-data.txt"))) + +(define recs (load-data-records)) + +(define (plot-lists xs ys zs kx ky kz) + (parameterize ([plot-width 700] + [plot-height 700] + [plot-x-label kx] + [plot-y-label ky] + [plot-z-label kz]) + (plot3d + ;#:x-max 2 #:x-min -2 + #:y-min 140 #:y-max 400 + #:z-max 1.5 + #:angle 0 + #:altitude 32 + (points3d (map vector xs ys zs) + #:sym 'fullcircle7 + #:alpha 0.1 + #:color 42)))) + +(define (fu-formula rec) + (define pieces-per-line (/ (hash-ref (hash-ref rec 'fu) 'piece-count) + (hash-ref (hash-ref rec 'fu) 'line-count) 1.0)) + (+ 2.2 (log (abs (hash-ref (hash-ref rec 'fu) 'looseness-sd))) + (* 0.09 pieces-per-line))) + +(define (geo-mean rec) + (define looses (hash-ref (hash-ref rec 'fu) 'looses)) + (expt (abs (apply * looses)) (/ 1 (length looses)))) + +(define (magic2 rec) + (define looses (map abs (hash-ref (hash-ref rec 'fu) 'looses))) + (expt (log (+ 1 (/ (variance looses) (expt (mean looses) 2)))) 0.5)) + + +(define (plot-it) + (define-values (helped or-not) (partition (λ(rec) (< 0 (hash-ref rec 'bu-improved))) recs)) + (define-values (fu-pos fu-neg) (partition (λ(rec) (> (fu-formula rec) 0)) recs)) + (report* (length helped) (length or-not) (length fu-pos) (length fu-neg)) + (let ([recs recs]) + (plot-lists + (map fu-formula recs) + (map (λ(rec) (hash-ref rec 'measure)) recs) + (map (λ(rec) (if (= 0 (hash-ref rec 'bu-improved)) 0 1)) recs) "fu-formula" "measure" "improve?"))) + +(plot-it) + +(define (looseness-improvement rec) + (/ (abs (- (hash-ref (hash-ref rec 'bu) 'avg-looseness) (hash-ref (hash-ref rec 'fu) 'avg-looseness))) + (hash-ref (hash-ref rec 'bu) 'avg-looseness))) +(define zs (filter positive? (sort (map looseness-improvement recs) <))) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/tests-ocm.rkt b/quad/tests-ocm.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2807ff0d --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/tests-ocm.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,79 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require racket/list racket/function rackunit "ocm.rkt" sugar) + + +(define (vector-range n) + (build-vector n identity)) + +(define (random-ascending len start finish) + (if (= len 0) + null + (let ([r (+ start (random (- finish start)))]) + (cons r (random-ascending (sub1 len) r finish))))) + + +(define (concave-list len min [lowval 0][highval 100]) + (append (reverse (random-ascending min lowval highval)) (random-ascending (- len min) lowval highval))) + + +(define (make-matrix2 rows cols) + (define row-minima-indexes (random-ascending rows 0 cols)) + (reverse (for/list ([row-minima-index (in-list row-minima-indexes)]) + (concave-list cols row-minima-index 20 400)))) + + +(define (make-matrix rows cols) + (define seed (for/list ([i (in-range (max rows cols))]) + (random 100))) + (for/list ([i (in-range rows)]) + (for/list ([j (in-range cols)]) + (if (< i j) + (apply + (sublist seed i (add1 j))) + (apply + (sublist seed j (add1 i))))))) + + +(define (make-matrix-proc m [is (range (length m))] [js (range (length (car m)))]) + (let ([ipairs (apply hash (flatten (map cons is (range (length is)))))] + [jpairs (apply hash (flatten (map cons js (range (length js)))))]) + (λ(i j) + (define my-i (hash-ref ipairs i)) + (define my-j (hash-ref jpairs j)) + (with-handlers [(exn:fail? (λ(exn) (* -1 i)))] + (list-ref (list-ref m my-i) my-j))))) + + +(define (compare-reductions m) + (check-equal? + (reduce2 (vector-range (length m)) (vector-range (length (car m))) (make-matrix-proc m) identity) + (reduce (vector-range (length m)) (vector-range (length (car m))) (make-matrix-proc m) identity))) + + +(define (do-it x) + (repeat x + (define rows (+ 2 (random 40))) + (define cols (+ 2 (random rows))) + (define m (make-matrix rows cols)) + (check-true (smawky? m)) + (compare-reductions m))) + +(define me '((25 21 13 10 20 13 19 35 37 41 58 66 82 99 124 133 156 178) (42 35 26 20 29 21 25 37 36 39 56 64 76 91 116 125 146 164) (57 48 35 28 33 24 28 40 37 37 54 61 72 83 107 113 131 146) (78 65 51 42 44 35 38 48 42 42 55 61 70 80 100 106 120 135) (90 76 58 48 49 39 42 48 39 35 47 51 56 63 80 86 97 110) (103 85 67 56 55 44 44 49 39 33 41 44 49 56 71 75 84 96) (123 105 86 75 73 59 57 62 51 44 50 52 55 59 72 74 80 92) (142 123 100 86 82 65 61 62 50 43 47 45 46 46 58 59 65 73) (151 130 104 88 80 59 52 49 37 29 29 24 23 20 28 25 31 39))) + + + +(define (bug-test bugmatrix bugrows bugcols) + (define bugproc (make-matrix-proc bugmatrix bugrows bugcols)) + (check-equal? (reduce (list->vector bugrows) (list->vector bugcols) bugproc identity) + (reduce2 (list->vector bugrows) (list->vector bugcols) bugproc identity))) + + +(bug-test '((19496.0 14025.0 7134.0 5027.0) (108793.0 102427.0 93819.0 90268.0) (101409.0 93357.0 81509.0 75236.0) (106662.0 93357.0 71417.0 56665.0)) + '(0 1 2 3) + '(4 5 6 7)) + + +(bug-test '((25 42 57 78 90 103 123 142 151) (21 35 48 65 76 85 105 123 130) (13 26 35 51 58 67 86 100 104) (10 20 28 42 48 56 75 86 88) (20 29 33 44 49 55 73 82 80) (13 21 24 35 39 44 59 65 59) (19 25 28 38 42 44 57 61 52) (35 37 40 48 48 49 62 62 49) (37 36 37 42 39 39 51 50 37) (41 39 37 42 35 33 44 43 29) (58 56 54 55 47 41 50 47 29) (66 64 61 61 51 44 52 45 24) (82 76 72 70 56 49 55 46 23) (99 91 83 80 63 56 59 46 20) (124 116 107 100 80 71 72 58 28) (133 125 113 106 86 75 74 59 25) (156 146 131 120 97 84 80 65 31) (178 164 146 135 110 96 92 73 39)) + '(0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17) + '(0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8)) + + +(do-it 10) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/tests.rkt b/quad/tests.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..1b2a8185 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/tests.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,93 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require "utils.rkt" "wrap.rkt" "quads.rkt" "world.rkt" racket/list racket/format) +(require rackunit) + +(check-equal? (join-attrs (list (box '(width 10)) (box #f "foobar") (hash 'x 10) (list 'width 20))) + (list (cons 'width 10) (cons 'x 10) (cons 'width 20))) + +(check-equal? (flatten-attrs (hash 'foo 'bar) (hash 'x 10)) (apply hash '(foo bar x 10))) +(check-equal? (flatten-attrs (hash 'x -5) (hash 'x 10)) (apply hash '(x 5))) +(check-equal? (merge-attrs (hash 'x -5) (hash 'x 10)) (apply hash '(x 10))) + +(check-equal? (gather-common-attrs (list (box '(foo bar)) (box '(foo bar goo bar zam zino)) (box '(foo bar)))) '(foo bar)) +(check-equal? (gather-common-attrs (list (box) (box '(foo bar goo bar zam zino)) (box '(foo bar)))) #f) +(check-equal? (gather-common-attrs (list (box '(width bar)) (box '(width bar)) (box '(width bar)))) #f) + +(define b1 (box '(x 10) "1st" (box '(foo bar) "2nd") "3rd")) +(define b1-flattened (list (box '(x 10) "1st") (box '(x 10 foo bar) "2nd") (box '(x 10) "3rd"))) + + +(define b3 (box #f (word) (line) (page))) +(check-true (sequence? b3)) +;(check-equal? (for/list ([i (in-quad b3)]) i) (list (word) (line) (page))) + +(check-true (quad= (flatten-quad b1) b1-flattened)) + +(define b2 (box '(x 10) (spacer) (box '(x 15) (spacer) (spacer)) (spacer))) +(define b2-flattened (list (spacer '(x 10)) (spacer '(x 25)) (spacer '(x 25)) (spacer '(x 10)))) + +(check-true (quad= (flatten-quad b2) b2-flattened)) +(check-true (quad= (split-quad b2) b2-flattened)) + +(check-true (quad= (flatten-quad (box '(foo 10) (spacer) (box) (spacer))) (list (spacer '(foo 10)) (box '(foo 10)) (spacer '(foo 10))))) + + +(check-equal? (compute-absolute-positions (page '(x 100 y 100) (line '(x 10 y 10) (word '(x 1 y 1) "hello") + (word '(x 2 y 2) "world")))) + (page '(y 100.0 x 100.0) (line '(y 110.0 x 110.0) (word '(y 111.0 x 111.0) "hello")(word '(y 112.0 x 112.0) "world")))) + + +(define b2-exploded (list (word '(x 10) "1") (word '(x 10) "s") (word '(x 10) "t") (word '(x 10 foo bar) "2") (word '(x 10 foo bar) "n") (word '(x 10 foo bar) "d") (word '(x 10) "3") (word '(x 10) "r") (word '(x 10) "d"))) + +(check-true (quad= (split-quad b1) b2-exploded)) + +(let ([world:minimum-last-line-chars 0]) + (check-equal? (map (compose1 quad-list last quad-list) (make-pieces (split-quad (block #f "Foo-dog and " (box) " mas\u00adsachu.")))) '(("o") ("g") ("d") () ("s") (".")))) + +(check-false (quad-has-attr? (box) 'foo)) +(check-true (quad-has-attr? (box '(foo bar)) 'foo)) + +(check-equal? (quad-attr-set (box '(foo bar)) 'foo 'zam) (box '(foo zam))) +(check-equal? (quad-attr-set (box #f) 'foo 'zam) (box '(foo zam))) +(check-equal? (quad-attr-set* (box #f) 'foo 'zam 'bar 'boo) (box '(foo zam bar boo))) +(check-equal? (quad-attr-set* (box '(foo bar)) 'foo 'zam 'bar 'boo) (box '(foo zam bar boo))) + +(check-equal? (quad-attr-remove (box '(foo bar zim zam)) 'foo) (box '(zim zam))) +(check-equal? (quad-attr-remove (box #f) 'zim) (box)) +(check-equal? (quad-attr-remove* (box '(foo bar zim zam ding dong)) 'foo 'ding) (box '(zim zam))) +(check-equal? (quad-attr-remove* (box #f) 'zim) (box)) + +(check-true (quad-ends-with? (box #f "foo") "foo")) +(check-false (quad-ends-with? (box #f "foo") "food")) +(check-false (quad-ends-with? (box #f (box #f "foo")) "food")) +(check-true (quad-ends-with? (box #f (box #f "foo")) "foo")) +(check-true (quad-ends-with? (box #f (box #f "foo")) "o")) +(check-true (quad-ends-with? (box #f (box #f (box #f (box #f (box #f "foo-"))))) "-")) + +(check-equal? (quad-append (box #f "foo") "bar") (box #f "foo" "bar")) +(check-equal? (quad-append (box #f "foo") (box #f "bar")) (box #f "foo" (box #f "bar"))) + +(check-equal? (quad-last-char (box #f (box #f "foo") "food")) "d") +(check-equal? (quad-last-char (box #f (box #f "foo") "")) "o") +(check-equal? (quad-last-char (box #f "foo")) "o") +(check-false (quad-last-char (box))) + +(check-equal? (quad-first-char (box #f (box #f "foo") "bar")) "f") +(check-equal? (quad-first-char (box #f "" (box #f "foo") "bar")) "f") +(check-equal? (quad-first-char (box #f "foo")) "f") +(check-false (quad-first-char (box))) + +(check-equal? (quad->string (box '(width 100) "foo")) "foo") +(check-equal? (quad->string (box '(width 100) "foo" (box '(width 100) "bar"))) "foobar") +(check-equal? (quad->string (box '(width 100) "foo" (box '(width 100) "bar") "ino")) "foobarino") +(check-equal? (quad->string (box '(width 100) (box '(width 100)))) "") + + +(check-false (whitespace? (~a #\u00A0))) +(check-true (whitespace/nbsp? (~a #\u00A0))) +(check-true (whitespace/nbsp? (word #f (~a #\u00A0)))) +(check-false (whitespace? (format " ~a " #\u00A0))) +(check-true (whitespace/nbsp? (format " ~a " #\u00A0))) +(define funny-unicode-spaces (map ~a (list #\u2000 #\u2007 #\u2009 #\u200a #\u202f))) +(check-true (andmap whitespace? funny-unicode-spaces)) +(check-true (andmap whitespace/nbsp? funny-unicode-spaces)) diff --git a/quad/texts/jude.txt b/quad/texts/jude.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d5aa3b70 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/texts/jude.txt @@ -0,0 +1,235 @@ +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/texts/jude0.txt b/quad/texts/jude0.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..856a492d --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/texts/jude0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,429 @@ +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. diff --git a/quad/texts/jude2.txt b/quad/texts/jude2.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..79e77619 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/texts/jude2.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/texts/judebig.txt b/quad/texts/judebig.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..2595abde --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/texts/judebig.txt @@ -0,0 +1,27551 @@ +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. + + +The schoolmaster was leaving the village, and everybody seemed sorry. +The miller at Cresscombe lent him the small white tilted cart and +horse to carry his goods to the city of his destination, about twenty +miles off, such a vehicle proving of quite sufficient size for the +departing teacher’s effects. For the schoolhouse had been partly +furnished by the managers, and the only cumbersome article possessed +by the master, in addition to the packing-case of books, was a +cottage piano that he had bought at an auction during the year in +which he thought of learning instrumental music. But the enthusiasm +having waned he had never acquired any skill in playing, and the +purchased article had been a perpetual trouble to him ever since in +moving house. + +The rector had gone away for the day, being a man who disliked the +sight of changes. He did not mean to return till the evening, when +the new school-teacher would have arrived and settled in, and +everything would be smooth again. + +The blacksmith, the farm bailiff, and the schoolmaster himself were +standing in perplexed attitudes in the parlour before the instrument. +The master had remarked that even if he got it into the cart he +should not know what to do with it on his arrival at Christminster, +the city he was bound for, since he was only going into temporary +lodgings just at first. + +A little boy of eleven, who had been thoughtfully assisting in the +packing, joined the group of men, and as they rubbed their chins he +spoke up, blushing at the sound of his own voice: “Aunt have got a +great fuel-house, and it could be put there, perhaps, till you’ve +found a place to settle in, sir.” + +“A proper good notion,” said the blacksmith. + +It was decided that a deputation should wait on the boy’s aunt—an +old maiden resident—and ask her if she would house the piano till +Mr. Phillotson should send for it. The smith and the bailiff started +to see about the practicability of the suggested shelter, and the boy +and the schoolmaster were left standing alone. + +“Sorry I am going, Jude?” asked the latter kindly. + +Tears rose into the boy’s eyes, for he was not among the regular day +scholars, who came unromantically close to the schoolmaster’s life, +but one who had attended the night school only during the present +teacher’s term of office. The regular scholars, if the truth must +be told, stood at the present moment afar off, like certain historic +disciples, indisposed to any enthusiastic volunteering of aid. + +The boy awkwardly opened the book he held in his hand, which Mr. +Phillotson had bestowed on him as a parting gift, and admitted that +he was sorry. + +“So am I,” said Mr. Phillotson. + +“Why do you go, sir?” asked the boy. + +“Ah—that would be a long story. You wouldn’t understand my reasons, +Jude. You will, perhaps, when you are older.” + +“I think I should now, sir.” + +“Well—don’t speak of this everywhere. You know what a university +is, and a university degree? It is the necessary hallmark of a man +who wants to do anything in teaching. My scheme, or dream, is to be +a university graduate, and then to be ordained. By going to live at +Christminster, or near it, I shall be at headquarters, so to speak, +and if my scheme is practicable at all, I consider that being on the +spot will afford me a better chance of carrying it out than I should +have elsewhere.” + +The smith and his companion returned. Old Miss Fawley’s fuel-house +was dry, and eminently practicable; and she seemed willing to give +the instrument standing-room there. It was accordingly left in +the school till the evening, when more hands would be available for +removing it; and the schoolmaster gave a final glance round. + +The boy Jude assisted in loading some small articles, and at nine +o’clock Mr. Phillotson mounted beside his box of books and other +impedimenta, and bade his friends good-bye. + +“I shan’t forget you, Jude,” he said, smiling, as the cart moved off. +“Be a good boy, remember; and be kind to animals and birds, and read +all you can. And if ever you come to Christminster remember you hunt +me out for old acquaintance’ sake.” + +The cart creaked across the green, and disappeared round the corner +by the rectory-house. The boy returned to the draw-well at the edge +of the greensward, where he had left his buckets when he went to help +his patron and teacher in the loading. There was a quiver in his lip +now and after opening the well-cover to begin lowering the bucket he +paused and leant with his forehead and arms against the framework, +his face wearing the fixity of a thoughtful child’s who has felt the +pricks of life somewhat before his time. The well into which he was +looking was as ancient as the village itself, and from his present +position appeared as a long circular perspective ending in a shining +disk of quivering water at a distance of a hundred feet down. +There was a lining of green moss near the top, and nearer still the +hart’s-tongue fern. + +He said to himself, in the melodramatic tones of a whimsical boy, +that the schoolmaster had drawn at that well scores of times on a +morning like this, and would never draw there any more. “I’ve seen +him look down into it, when he was tired with his drawing, just as I +do now, and when he rested a bit before carrying the buckets home! +But he was too clever to bide here any longer—a small sleepy place +like this!” + +A tear rolled from his eye into the depths of the well. The morning +was a little foggy, and the boy’s breathing unfurled itself as +a thicker fog upon the still and heavy air. His thoughts were +interrupted by a sudden outcry: + +“Bring on that water, will ye, you idle young harlican!” + +It came from an old woman who had emerged from her door towards the +garden gate of a green-thatched cottage not far off. The boy quickly +waved a signal of assent, drew the water with what was a great effort +for one of his stature, landed and emptied the big bucket into his +own pair of smaller ones, and pausing a moment for breath, started +with them across the patch of clammy greensward whereon the well +stood—nearly in the centre of the little village, or rather hamlet +of Marygreen. + +It was as old-fashioned as it was small, and it rested in the lap of +an undulating upland adjoining the North Wessex downs. Old as it +was, however, the well-shaft was probably the only relic of the local +history that remained absolutely unchanged. Many of the thatched +and dormered dwelling-houses had been pulled down of late years, and +many trees felled on the green. Above all, the original church, +hump-backed, wood-turreted, and quaintly hipped, had been taken +down, and either cracked up into heaps of road-metal in the lane, or +utilized as pig-sty walls, garden seats, guard-stones to fences, and +rockeries in the flower-beds of the neighbourhood. In place of it +a tall new building of modern Gothic design, unfamiliar to English +eyes, had been erected on a new piece of ground by a certain +obliterator of historic records who had run down from London and back +in a day. The site whereon so long had stood the ancient temple to +the Christian divinities was not even recorded on the green and level +grass-plot that had immemorially been the churchyard, the obliterated +graves being commemorated by eighteen-penny cast-iron crosses +warranted to last five years. + + + +II + + +Slender as was Jude Fawley’s frame he bore the two brimming +house-buckets of water to the cottage without resting. Over the door +was a little rectangular piece of blue board, on which was painted +in yellow letters, “Drusilla Fawley, Baker.” Within the little lead +panes of the window—this being one of the few old houses left—were +five bottles of sweets, and three buns on a plate of the willow +pattern. + +While emptying the buckets at the back of the house he could hear an +animated conversation in progress within-doors between his great-aunt, +the Drusilla of the sign-board, and some other villagers. Having +seen the school-master depart, they were summing up particulars of +the event, and indulging in predictions of his future. + +“And who’s he?” asked one, comparatively a stranger, when the boy +entered. + +“Well ye med ask it, Mrs. Williams. He’s my great-nephew—come since +you was last this way.” The old inhabitant who answered was a tall, +gaunt woman, who spoke tragically on the most trivial subject, and +gave a phrase of her conversation to each auditor in turn. “He come +from Mellstock, down in South Wessex, about a year ago—worse luck +for ‘n, Belinda” (turning to the right) “where his father was living, +and was took wi’ the shakings for death, and died in two days, as you +know, Caroline” (turning to the left). “It would ha’ been a blessing +if Goddy-mighty had took thee too, wi’ thy mother and father, poor +useless boy! But I’ve got him here to stay with me till I can see +what’s to be done with un, though I am obliged to let him earn any +penny he can. Just now he’s a-scaring of birds for Farmer Troutham. +It keeps him out of mischty. Why do ye turn away, Jude?” she +continued, as the boy, feeling the impact of their glances like slaps +upon his face, moved aside. + +The local washerwoman replied that it was perhaps a very good plan of +Miss or Mrs. Fawley’s (as they called her indifferently) to have him +with her—”to kip ‘ee company in your loneliness, fetch water, shet +the winder-shetters o’ nights, and help in the bit o’ baking.” + +Miss Fawley doubted it.... “Why didn’t ye get the schoolmaster to +take ‘ee to Christminster wi’ un, and make a scholar of ‘ee,” she +continued, in frowning pleasantry. “I’m sure he couldn’t ha’ took a +better one. The boy is crazy for books, that he is. It runs in our +family rather. His cousin Sue is just the same—so I’ve heard; but +I have not seen the child for years, though she was born in this +place, within these four walls, as it happened. My niece and her +husband, after they were married, didn’ get a house of their own for +some year or more; and then they only had one till—Well, I won’t go +into that. Jude, my child, don’t you ever marry. ‘Tisn’t for the +Fawleys to take that step any more. She, their only one, was like +a child o’ my own, Belinda, till the split come! Ah, that a little +maid should know such changes!” + +Jude, finding the general attention again centering on himself, went +out to the bakehouse, where he ate the cake provided for his +breakfast. The end of his spare time had now arrived, and emerging +from the garden by getting over the hedge at the back he pursued a +path northward, till he came to a wide and lonely depression in the +general level of the upland, which was sown as a corn-field. This +vast concave was the scene of his labours for Mr Troutham the farmer, +and he descended into the midst of it. + +The brown surface of the field went right up towards the sky all +round, where it was lost by degrees in the mist that shut out the +actual verge and accentuated the solitude. The only marks on the +uniformity of the scene were a rick of last year’s produce standing +in the midst of the arable, the rooks that rose at his approach, and +the path athwart the fallow by which he had come, trodden now by he +hardly knew whom, though once by many of his own dead family. + +“How ugly it is here!” he murmured. + +The fresh harrow-lines seemed to stretch like the channellings in +a piece of new corduroy, lending a meanly utilitarian air to the +expanse, taking away its gradations, and depriving it of all history +beyond that of the few recent months, though to every clod and stone +there really attached associations enough and to spare—echoes of +songs from ancient harvest-days, of spoken words, and of sturdy +deeds. Every inch of ground had been the site, first or last, +of energy, gaiety, horse-play, bickerings, weariness. Groups of +gleaners had squatted in the sun on every square yard. Love-matches +that had populated the adjoining hamlet had been made up there +between reaping and carrying. Under the hedge which divided the +field from a distant plantation girls had given themselves to lovers +who would not turn their heads to look at them by the next harvest; +and in that ancient cornfield many a man had made love-promises to +a woman at whose voice he had trembled by the next seed-time after +fulfilling them in the church adjoining. But this neither Jude nor +the rooks around him considered. For them it was a lonely place, +possessing, in the one view, only the quality of a work-ground, and +in the other that of a granary good to feed in. + +The boy stood under the rick before mentioned, and every few seconds +used his clacker or rattle briskly. At each clack the rooks left off +pecking, and rose and went away on their leisurely wings, burnished +like tassets of mail, afterwards wheeling back and regarding him +warily, and descending to feed at a more respectful distance. + +He sounded the clacker till his arm ached, and at length his heart +grew sympathetic with the birds’ thwarted desires. They seemed, like +himself, to be living in a world which did not want them. Why should +he frighten them away? They took upon more and more the aspect of +gentle friends and pensioners—the only friends he could claim as +being in the least degree interested in him, for his aunt had often +told him that she was not. He ceased his rattling, and they alighted +anew. + +“Poor little dears!” said Jude, aloud. “You SHALL have some dinner— +you shall. There is enough for us all. Farmer Troutham can afford +to let you have some. Eat, then my dear little birdies, and make a +good meal!” + +They stayed and ate, inky spots on the nut-brown soil, and Jude +enjoyed their appetite. A magic thread of fellow-feeling united his +own life with theirs. Puny and sorry as those lives were, they much +resembled his own. + +His clacker he had by this time thrown away from him, as being a mean +and sordid instrument, offensive both to the birds and to himself +as their friend. All at once he became conscious of a smart blow +upon his buttocks, followed by a loud clack, which announced to his +surprised senses that the clacker had been the instrument of offence +used. The birds and Jude started up simultaneously, and the dazed +eyes of the latter beheld the farmer in person, the great Troutham +himself, his red face glaring down upon Jude’s cowering frame, the +clacker swinging in his hand. + +“So it’s ‘Eat my dear birdies,’ is it, young man? ‘Eat, dear +birdies,’ indeed! I’ll tickle your breeches, and see if you say, +‘Eat, dear birdies,’ again in a hurry! And you’ve been idling at the +schoolmaster’s too, instead of coming here, ha’n’t ye, hey? That’s +how you earn your sixpence a day for keeping the rooks off my corn!” + +Whilst saluting Jude’s ears with this impassioned rhetoric, Troutham +had seized his left hand with his own left, and swinging his slim +frame round him at arm’s-length, again struck Jude on the hind parts +with the flat side of Jude’s own rattle, till the field echoed with +the blows, which were delivered once or twice at each revolution. + +“Don’t ‘ee, sir—please don’t ‘ee!” cried the whirling child, as +helpless under the centrifugal tendency of his person as a hooked +fish swinging to land, and beholding the hill, the rick, the +plantation, the path, and the rooks going round and round him in an +amazing circular race. “I—I sir—only meant that—there was a good +crop in the ground—I saw ‘em sow it—and the rooks could have a +little bit for dinner—and you wouldn’t miss it, sir—and Mr. +Phillotson said I was to be kind to ‘em—oh, oh, oh!” + +This truthful explanation seemed to exasperate the farmer even more +than if Jude had stoutly denied saying anything at all, and he still +smacked the whirling urchin, the clacks of the instrument continuing +to resound all across the field and as far as the ears of distant +workers—who gathered thereupon that Jude was pursuing his business +of clacking with great assiduity—and echoing from the brand-new +church tower just behind the mist, towards the building of which +structure the farmer had largely subscribed, to testify his love for +God and man. + +Presently Troutham grew tired of his punitive task, and depositing +the quivering boy on his legs, took a sixpence from his pocket and +gave it him in payment for his day’s work, telling him to go home and +never let him see him in one of those fields again. + +Jude leaped out of arm’s reach, and walked along the trackway +weeping—not from the pain, though that was keen enough; not from the +perception of the flaw in the terrestrial scheme, by which what was +good for God’s birds was bad for God’s gardener; but with the awful +sense that he had wholly disgraced himself before he had been a year +in the parish, and hence might be a burden to his great-aunt for +life. + +With this shadow on his mind he did not care to show himself in the +village, and went homeward by a roundabout track behind a high hedge +and across a pasture. Here he beheld scores of coupled earthworms +lying half their length on the surface of the damp ground, as +they always did in such weather at that time of the year. It was +impossible to advance in regular steps without crushing some of them +at each tread. + +Though Farmer Troutham had just hurt him, he was a boy who could not +himself bear to hurt anything. He had never brought home a nest of +young birds without lying awake in misery half the night after, and +often reinstating them and the nest in their original place the next +morning. He could scarcely bear to see trees cut down or lopped, +from a fancy that it hurt them; and late pruning, when the sap was up +and the tree bled profusely, had been a positive grief to him in his +infancy. This weakness of character, as it may be called, suggested +that he was the sort of man who was born to ache a good deal before +the fall of the curtain upon his unnecessary life should signify that +all was well with him again. He carefully picked his way on tiptoe +among the earthworms, without killing a single one. + +On entering the cottage he found his aunt selling a penny loaf to a +little girl, and when the customer was gone she said, “Well, how do +you come to be back here in the middle of the morning like this?” + +“I’m turned away.” + +“What?” + +“Mr. Troutham have turned me away because I let the rooks have a few +peckings of corn. And there’s my wages—the last I shall ever hae!” + +He threw the sixpence tragically on the table. + +“Ah!” said his aunt, suspending her breath. And she opened upon him +a lecture on how she would now have him all the spring upon her hands +doing nothing. “If you can’t skeer birds, what can ye do? There! +don’t ye look so deedy! Farmer Troutham is not so much better than +myself, come to that. But ‘tis as Job said, ‘Now they that are +younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have +disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.’ His father was my +father’s journeyman, anyhow, and I must have been a fool to let ‘ee +go to work for ‘n, which I shouldn’t ha’ done but to keep ‘ee out of +mischty.” + +More angry with Jude for demeaning her by coming there than for +dereliction of duty, she rated him primarily from that point of view, +and only secondarily from a moral one. + +“Not that you should have let the birds eat what Farmer Troutham +planted. Of course you was wrong in that. Jude, Jude, why didstn’t +go off with that schoolmaster of thine to Christminster or somewhere? +But, oh no—poor or’nary child—there never was any sprawl on thy +side of the family, and never will be!” + +“Where is this beautiful city, Aunt—this place where Mr. Phillotson +is gone to?” asked the boy, after meditating in silence. + +“Lord! you ought to know where the city of Christminster is. Near a +score of miles from here. It is a place much too good for you ever +to have much to do with, poor boy, I’m a-thinking.” + +“And will Mr. Phillotson always be there?” + +“How can I tell?” + +“Could I go to see him?” + +“Lord, no! You didn’t grow up hereabout, or you wouldn’t ask such as +that. We’ve never had anything to do with folk in Christminster, nor +folk in Christminster with we.” + +Jude went out, and, feeling more than ever his existence to be an +undemanded one, he lay down upon his back on a heap of litter near +the pig-sty. The fog had by this time become more translucent, and +the position of the sun could be seen through it. He pulled his +straw hat over his face, and peered through the interstices of the +plaiting at the white brightness, vaguely reflecting. Growing up +brought responsibilities, he found. Events did not rhyme quite as +he had thought. Nature’s logic was too horrid for him to care for. +That mercy towards one set of creatures was cruelty towards another +sickened his sense of harmony. As you got older, and felt yourself +to be at the centre of your time, and not at a point in its +circumference, as you had felt when you were little, you were seized +with a sort of shuddering, he perceived. All around you there seemed +to be something glaring, garish, rattling, and the noises and glares +hit upon the little cell called your life, and shook it, and warped +it. + +If he could only prevent himself growing up! He did not want to be a +man. + +Then, like the natural boy, he forgot his despondency, and sprang up. +During the remainder of the morning he helped his aunt, and in the +afternoon, when there was nothing more to be done, he went into the +village. Here he asked a man whereabouts Christminster lay. + +“Christminster? Oh, well, out by there yonder; though I’ve never bin +there—not I. I’ve never had any business at such a place.” + +The man pointed north-eastward, in the very direction where lay that +field in which Jude had so disgraced himself. There was something +unpleasant about the coincidence for the moment, but the fearsomeness +of this fact rather increased his curiosity about the city. The +farmer had said he was never to be seen in that field again; yet +Christminster lay across it, and the path was a public one. So, +stealing out of the hamlet, he descended into the same hollow which +had witnessed his punishment in the morning, never swerving an inch +from the path, and climbing up the long and tedious ascent on the +other side till the track joined the highway by a little clump of +trees. Here the ploughed land ended, and all before him was bleak +open down. diff --git a/quad/todo.rkt b/quad/todo.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..578a272a --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/todo.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +#lang racket/base + +;; todo next +;; segfault on command line? +;; adaptive linebreak using fu-formula +;; pagination: vertical measuring +;; use smawk penalty system for pagination too? +;; unified model of filling / positioning that works for every quad, recursively +;; how to handle constraint failure. At least a good error message. +;; imperative line break +;; why do certain MB fonts only appear in bold? +;; deal with separating / recombining footnote flow +;; deal with page number flags (for toc, index, etc) +;; disk cache of previously wrapped lines +;; fractional point sizes (asked Flatt) +;; how are opentype features handled (asked Flatt) diff --git a/quad/utils.rkt b/quad/utils.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..d481ca84 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/utils.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,266 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require sugar/list sugar/define) +(require (for-syntax racket/syntax racket/base) racket/string racket/contract racket/list sugar/debug racket/bool hyphenate racket/function math/flonum) +(require "quads.rkt" "world.rkt" "measure.rkt") + + +;; predicate for use below +(define (list-of-mergeable-attrs? xs) + (and (list? xs) (andmap (λ(x) (or (quad? x) (quad-attrs? x) (hashable-list? x))) xs))) + +;; faster than (listof pair?) +(define (pairs? x) (and (list? x) (andmap pair? x))) + +;; push together multiple attr sources into one list of pairs. +;; mostly a helper function for the two attr functions below. +(define+provide/contract (join-attrs quads-or-attrs-or-lists) + (list-of-mergeable-attrs? . -> . pairs?) + (append-map hash->list (filter-not false? (map (λ(x) + (cond + [(quad? x) (quad-attrs x)] + [(quad-attrs? x) x] + [(hashable-list? x) (apply hash x)] + [else #f])) quads-or-attrs-or-lists)))) + + +;; merge concatenates attributes, with later ones overriding earlier. +;; most of the work is done by join-attrs. +(define+provide/contract (merge-attrs . quads-or-attrs-or-lists) + (() #:rest list-of-mergeable-attrs? . ->* . quad-attrs?) + (define all-attrs (join-attrs quads-or-attrs-or-lists)) + (apply hash (flatten all-attrs))) + +;; functionally update a quad attr. Similar to hash-set +(define+provide/contract (quad-attr-set q k v) + (quad? symbol? any/c . -> . quad?) + (quad (quad-name q) (merge-attrs (quad-attrs q) (list k v)) (quad-list q))) + + +;; functionally update multiple quad attrs. Similar to hash-set* +(define+provide/contract (quad-attr-set* q . kvs) + ((quad?) #:rest hashable-list? . ->* . quad?) + (for/fold ([current-q q])([kv-list (in-list (slice-at kvs 2))]) + (apply quad-attr-set current-q kv-list))) + +;; functionally remove a quad attr. Similar to hash-remove +(define+provide/contract (quad-attr-remove q k) + (quad? symbol? . -> . quad?) + (if (quad-attrs q) + (quad (quad-name q) (hash-remove (quad-attrs q) k) (quad-list q)) + q)) + +;; functionally remove multiple quad attrs. Similar to hash-remove +(define+provide/contract (quad-attr-remove* q . ks) + ((quad?) #:rest (λ(ks) (and (list? ks) (andmap symbol? ks))) . ->* . quad?) + (for/fold ([current-q q])([k (in-list ks)]) + (quad-attr-remove current-q k))) + +(define+provide/contract (quad-map proc q) + (procedure? quad? . -> . quad?) + (quad (quad-name q) (quad-attrs q) (map proc (quad-list q)))) + +;; flatten merges attributes, but applies special logic suitable to flattening +;; for instance, resolving x and y coordinates. +(define+provide/contract (flatten-attrs . quads-or-attrs-or-falses) + (() #:rest (listof (or/c quad? quad-attrs?)) . ->* . quad-attrs?) + (define all-attrs (join-attrs quads-or-attrs-or-falses)) + (define-values (x-attrs y-attrs other-attrs-reversed) + (for/fold ([xas null][yas null][oas null])([attr (in-list all-attrs)]) + (cond + [(equal? (car attr) world:x-position-key) (values (cons attr xas) yas oas)] + [(equal? (car attr) world:y-position-key) (values xas (cons attr yas) oas)] + [else (values xas yas (cons attr oas))]))) + (define (make-cartesian-attr key attrs) (if (empty? attrs) empty (cons key (apply + (map cdr attrs))))) + (define-values (x-attr y-attr) (apply values (map make-cartesian-attr (list world:x-position-key world:y-position-key) (list x-attrs y-attrs)))) + (apply hash (flatten (list* x-attr y-attr (reverse other-attrs-reversed))))) + + +;; pushes attributes down from parent quads to children, +;; resulting in a flat list of quads. +;; input is often large, so macro allows us to avoid allocation +(provide flatten-quad) +(define-syntax-rule (flatten-quad q) + ; (quad? . -> . quads?) + (flatten + (let loop ([x q][parent #f]) + (cond + [(quad? x) + (let ([x-with-parent-attrs (quad (quad-name x) + (flatten-attrs parent x) ; child positioned last so it overrides parent attributes + (quad-list x))]) + (if (empty? (quad-list x)) + x-with-parent-attrs ; no subelements, so stop here + (map (λ(xi) (loop xi x-with-parent-attrs)) (quad-list x))))] ; replace quad with its elements + [(string? x) (quad (quad-name parent) (quad-attrs parent) (list x))])))) + +;; flatten quad as above, +;; then dissolve it into individual character quads while copying attributes +;; input is often large, so macro allows us to avoid allocation +(provide split-quad) +(define-syntax-rule (split-quad q) + ;(quad? . -> . quads?) + (letrec ([do-explode (λ(x [parent #f]) + (cond + [(quad? x) + (if (empty? (quad-list x)) + x ; no subelements, so stop here + (map (λ(xi) (do-explode xi x)) (quad-list x)))] ; replace quad with its elements, exploded + [(string? x) (map (λ(xc) (quad 'word (quad-attrs parent) (list xc))) (regexp-match* #px"." x))]))]) + (flatten (map do-explode (flatten-quad q))))) + +;; merge chars into words (and boxes), leave the rest +;; if two quads are mergeable types, and have the same attributes, +;; they get merged. +;; input is often large, so macro allows us to avoid allocation +(provide join-quads) +(define-syntax-rule (join-quads qs-in) + ;((quads?)(quads?) . ->* . quads?) + + (let ([make-matcher (λ (base-q) + (λ(q) + (and (member (quad-name q) world:mergeable-quad-types) + (not (whitespace/nbsp? q)) + ;; if key doesn't exist, it is compared against the default value. + ;; this way, a nonexistent value will test true against a default value. + (andmap (λ(key default) (equal? (quad-attr-ref base-q key default) (quad-attr-ref q key default))) + (list world:font-name-key + world:font-size-key + world:font-weight-key + world:font-style-key) + (list (world:font-name-default) + (world:font-size-default) + (world:font-weight-default) + (world:font-style-default))))))]) + (let loop ([qs qs-in][acc null]) + (if (null? qs) + (reverse acc) + (let* ([base-q (first qs)] + [mergeable-and-matches-base? (make-matcher base-q)]) ; make a new predicate function for this quad + (cond + [(mergeable-and-matches-base? base-q) + ;; take as many quads that match, using the predicate function + (define-values (matching-qs other-qs) (splitf-at (cdr qs) mergeable-and-matches-base?)) + (define new-word (word (quad-attrs base-q) (string-append* (append-map quad-list (cons base-q matching-qs))))) + (loop other-qs (cons new-word acc))] + ;; otherwise move on to the next in line + [else (loop (cdr qs) (cons base-q acc))])))))) + + + +;; the last char of a quad +(define+provide/contract (quad-last-char q) + (quad? . -> . (or/c #f string?)) + (define split-qs (split-quad q)) ; split makes it simple, but is it too expensive? + (if (or (empty? split-qs) (empty? (quad-list (last split-qs)))) + #f + (car (quad-list (last split-qs))))) + +;; the first char of a quad +(define+provide/contract (quad-first-char q) + (quad? . -> . (or/c #f string?)) + (define split-qs (split-quad q)) ; explosion makes it simple, but is it too expensive? + (if (or (empty? split-qs) (empty? (quad-list (first split-qs)))) + #f + (car (quad-list (first split-qs))))) + + +;; propagate x and y adjustments throughout the tree, +;; using parent x and y to adjust children, and so on. +(define+provide/contract (compute-absolute-positions i [parent-x 0][parent-y 0]) + ((quad?) (integer? integer?) . ->* . quad?) + (cond + [(quad? i) + (define adjusted-x (round-float (+ (quad-attr-ref i world:x-position-key 0) parent-x))) + (define adjusted-y (round-float (+ (quad-attr-ref i world:y-position-key 0) parent-y))) + (quad (quad-name i) (merge-attrs i (list world:x-position-key adjusted-x world:y-position-key adjusted-y)) (map (λ(ii) (compute-absolute-positions ii adjusted-x adjusted-y)) (quad-list i)))] + [else i])) + +;; simple assert. should get moved to sugar/debug +(provide assert) +(define-syntax-rule (assert pred expr) + (let ([result expr]) + (if (pred result) + result + (error 'assert-failure (format "\n~a\nevaluates to:\n~a\nwhich is not:\n~a" 'expr result 'pred))))) + +;; peeks at arguments and times execution +(provide snoop) +(define-syntax (snoop stx) + (syntax-case stx () + [(_ proc arg ... . rest) + (with-syntax () + #'(begin + (displayln (format "Evaluating ~s" '(proc arg ... . rest))) + (let ([start (current-milliseconds)] + [result (proc arg ... . rest)] + [end (current-milliseconds)]) + (displayln (format "Evaluation of ~s took ~a ms\nResult ~a" '(proc arg ... . rest) (- end start) result)) + result)))])) + +;; find total pages in doc by searching on page count key. +(define+provide/contract (pages-in-doc doc) + (doc? . -> . integer?) + (add1 (apply max (map (curryr quad-attr-ref world:page-key 0) (quad-list doc))))) + + +;; todo: how to guarantee line has leading key? +(define+provide/contract (compute-line-height line) + (line? . -> . line?) + (quad-attr-set line world:height-key (quad-attr-ref/parameter line world:leading-key))) + +(define (fixed-height? q) (quad-has-attr? q world:height-key)) +(define+provide/contract (quad-height q) + (quad? . -> . number?) + (quad-attr-ref q world:height-key 0)) + +;; use heights to compute vertical positions +(define+provide/contract (add-vert-positions starting-quad) + (quad? . -> . quad?) + (define-values (new-quads final-height) + (for/fold ([new-quads empty][height-so-far 0])([q (in-list (quad-list starting-quad))]) + (values (cons (quad-attr-set q world:y-position-key height-so-far) new-quads) + (round-float (+ height-so-far (quad-height q)))))) + (quad (quad-name starting-quad) (quad-attrs starting-quad) (reverse new-quads))) + +;; recursively hyphenate strings in a quad +(define+provide/contract (hyphenate-quad x) + (quad? . -> . quad?) + (cond + [(quad? x) (quad-map hyphenate-quad x)] + [(string? x) (hyphenate x + #:min-length 6 + #:min-left-length 3 + #:min-right-length 3)] + [else x])) + +;; just because it comes up a lot +(provide split-last) +(define-syntax-rule (split-last xs) + (let-values ([(first-list last-list) (split-at-right xs 1)]) + (values first-list (car last-list)))) + +;; like cons, but joins a list to an atom +(provide snoc) +(define-syntax-rule (snoc xs x) + (append xs (list x))) + + +;; folded flonum operators +;; (for use with multiple args, standard flonum ops have arity = 2) + +(define-syntax (define-folded-op stx) + (syntax-case stx () + [(_ op starting-val) + (with-syntax ([fold-op (format-id stx "fold-~a" #'op)] + [ops (format-id stx "~as" #'op)]) + #'(begin + (provide fold-op ops) + (define-syntax-rule (ops x (... ...)) + (fold-op (list x (... ...)))) + (define-syntax-rule (fold-op xs) + (foldl op starting-val xs))))])) + +(define-folded-op fl+ 0.0) +(define-folded-op fl- 0.0) +(define-folded-op fl* 1.0) +(define-folded-op fl/ 1.0) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/world.rkt b/quad/world.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..bea434c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/world.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,96 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require (for-syntax racket/base racket/syntax)) +(provide (prefix-out world: (all-defined-out))) + +(define-syntax-rule (define-parameter name val) + (define name (make-parameter val))) + +(define-syntax (define-key-and-parameter stx) + (syntax-case stx () + [(_ name keyname val) + (with-syntax ([name-key (format-id #'name "~a-key" #'name)] + [name-default (format-id #'name "~a-default" #'name)]) + #'(begin + (define name-key keyname) + (define-parameter name-default val)))])) + +(define-key-and-parameter measure 'measure 300) + + +(define-key-and-parameter font-size 'size 13) +(define-key-and-parameter font-name 'font "Triplicate T4") +(define-key-and-parameter font-weight 'weight 'normal) +(define-key-and-parameter font-style 'style 'normal) +(define-key-and-parameter font-color 'color "black") +(define-key-and-parameter font-background 'background "none") + +(define-key-and-parameter column-count 'column-count 2) +(define-key-and-parameter column-gutter 'column-gutter 30) + + +(define max-quality 100) +(define draft-quality 20) +(define-key-and-parameter quality 'quality max-quality) + + +(define-key-and-parameter horiz-alignment 'x-align 'left) +(define-key-and-parameter leading 'leading (floor (* (font-size-default) 1.4))) + + +(define-key-and-parameter paper-width 'paper-width (* 8.5 72)) +(define-key-and-parameter paper-height 'paper-height (* 11 72)) + +(define line-looseness-key 'looseness) +(define width-key 'width) +(define horiz-alignment-last-line-key 'x-align-last-line) +(define word-break-key 'word-break) +(define no-break-key 'nb) +(define before-break-key 'bb) +(define ascent-key 'ascent) +(define height-key 'height) +(define unbreakable-key 'no-break) + + +(define line-index-key 'line-idx) +(define total-lines-key 'lines) +(define page-index-key 'page-idx) +(define column-index-key 'column-idx) + +(define x-position-key 'x) +(define y-position-key 'y) + +(define page-key 'page) + +(define soft-hyphen #\u00AD) +(define hyphens-and-dashes (list "-" "–" "—" (format "~a" soft-hyphen))) +(define spaces '(" ")) +(define empty-string '"") + +(define mergeable-quad-types '(char run word)) + + + +(define-parameter default-word-break-list '(nb "" bb "-")) + +(define-parameter optical-overhang 0.8) + +(define line-looseness-tolerance 0.05) ; 0.04 seems to be the magic point that avoids a lot of hyphenation +(define hyphen-limit 1) ; does not work with first-fit wrapping +(define minimum-last-line-chars 5) +(define allow-hyphenated-last-word-in-paragraph #t) +(define allowed-overfull-ratio 1.015) +(define last-line-can-be-short #t) +(define use-optical-kerns? #t) +(define use-hyphenation? #t) + +(define new-line-penalty 5000) +(define hyphen-penalty 5000) + +(define hanging-chars '("." "-" "," "‘" "’" "“" "”" "'" "\"" ")" "(" "[" "]" "{" "}" ":" ";")) + +(define minimum-lines-per-column 4) +(define min-first-lines 2) +(define min-last-lines 2) +(define default-lines-per-column 36) + +(define-parameter logging-level 'info) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/quad/wrap.rkt b/quad/wrap.rkt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..894013e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/quad/wrap.rkt @@ -0,0 +1,543 @@ +#lang racket/base +(require sugar/coerce sugar/define sugar/list sugar/debug racket/list racket/format racket/function racket/string (for-syntax racket/base racket/syntax) math/flonum racket/vector sugar/cache) +(require "ocm.rkt" "quads.rkt" "utils.rkt" "measure.rkt" "world.rkt" "logger.rkt" ) + +;; predicate for the soft hyphen +(define+provide/contract (soft-hyphen? x) + (string? . -> . boolean?) + (equal? (~a world:soft-hyphen) x)) + +;; visible characters that also mark possible breakpoints +(define+provide/contract (visible-breakable? x) + (string? . -> . coerce/boolean?) + (member x world:hyphens-and-dashes)) + +;; invisible characters that denote possible breakpoints +(define+provide/contract (invisible-breakable? x) + (string? . -> . coerce/boolean?) + (member x (cons world:empty-string world:spaces))) + +;; union of visible & invisible +(define+provide/contract (breakable? x) + (any/c . -> . boolean?) + (cond + [(string? x) (or (visible-breakable? x) (invisible-breakable? x))] + [(word? x) (breakable? (word-string x))] + [else #f])) + +;; used by insert-spacers to determine which characters +;; can be surrounded by stretchy spacers +(define+provide/contract (takes-justification-space? x) + (any/c . -> . boolean?) + (whitespace/nbsp? x)) + +;; test if a quad can be a word break: +;; either it's an explicit word break, +;; or it's breakable (and can be converted to a word break) +(define+provide/contract (possible-word-break-quad? q) + (quad? . -> . boolean?) + (or (word-break? q) (breakable? q))) + +;; convert a possible word break into an actual one +(define+provide/contract (convert-to-word-break q) + (possible-word-break-quad? . -> . word-break?) + (cond + [(word-break? q) q] + [(word? q) + (define str (word-string q)) ; str will be one character long, because we've exploded our input + (apply word-break + (merge-attrs q ; take q's attributes for formatting purposes + (cond + ;; a space is ordinarily visible, but disappears at the end of a line + [(equal? str " ") (list world:no-break-key " " world:before-break-key "")] + ;; soft hyphen is ordinarily invisible, but appears at the end of a line + [(soft-hyphen? str) (list world:no-break-key "" world:before-break-key "-")] + ;; a visible breakable character is always visible + [(visible-breakable? str) (list world:no-break-key str world:before-break-key str)] + [else (world:default-word-break-list)])) (quad-list q))])) + +(define (make-unbreakable q) + (quad-attr-set q world:unbreakable-key #t)) + +;; take list of atomic quads and gather them into pieces +;; a piece is an indivisible chunk of a line. +;; meaning, a line can wrap at a piece boundary, but not elsewhere. +;; hyphenation produces more, smaller pieces, which means more linebreak opportunities +;; but this also makes wrapping slower. +(define+provide/contract (make-pieces qs) + (quads? . -> . pieces?) + (define-values (breakable-items items-to-make-unbreakable) (split-at-right qs (min world:minimum-last-line-chars (length qs)))) + (define unbreak-qs (append breakable-items (map make-unbreakable items-to-make-unbreakable))) + (define lists-of-quads (slicef-at unbreak-qs (λ(q) (or (not (possible-word-break-quad? q)) + (quad-attr-ref q world:unbreakable-key #f))))) + (define-values (first-lists-of-quads last-list-of-quads) (split-last lists-of-quads)) + (define (make-first-pieces qs) + (let-values ([(first-qs last-q) (split-last qs)]) + (apply piece (list world:word-break-key (convert-to-word-break last-q)) first-qs))) + (append (map make-first-pieces first-lists-of-quads) + (list (apply piece #f last-list-of-quads)))) + +;; extract font attributes from quad, or get default values +(provide font-attributes-with-defaults) +(define-syntax-rule (font-attributes-with-defaults q) + (list + (let ([size (quad-attr-ref/parameter q world:font-size-key)]) + (if (exact-integer? size) (fl size) size)) + (quad-attr-ref/parameter q world:font-name-key) + (quad-attr-ref/parameter q world:font-weight-key) + (quad-attr-ref/parameter q world:font-style-key))) + +;; get the width of a quad. +;; Try the attr first, and if it's not available, compute the width. +;; comes in fast or slow versions. +;; not designed to update the source quad. +(define+provide/contract (quad-width q [fast? #f]) + ((quad?) (boolean?) . ->* . flonum?) + (cond + [(quad-has-attr? q world:width-key) (fl (quad-attr-ref q world:width-key))] + [(ormap (λ(pred) (pred q)) (list char? run? word? word-break?)) + (apply measure-text (word-string q) + (font-attributes-with-defaults q))] + [(line? q) (fold-fl+ (map quad-width (quad-list q)))] + [else 0.0])) + +;; shorthand for fast version of quad-width. +(define+provide (quad-width-fast q) + (quad-width q #t)) + +;; get the ascent (distance from top of text to baseline) +;; used by renderer to align text runs baseline-to-baseline. +;; consult the attrs, and if not available, compute it. +;; not designed to update the source quad. +(define+provide/contract (ascent q) + (quad? . -> . flonum?) + (or (quad-attr-ref q world:ascent-key #f) + (cond + [(ormap (λ(pred) (pred q)) (list char? run? word? word-break?)) + (apply measure-ascent (word-string q) (font-attributes-with-defaults q))] + [else 0.0]))) + +;; convert a piece into its final form, which depends on location. +;; if a piece appears at the end of a line, it is rendered in "before break" mode. +;; if a piece appears elsewhere in a line, it is rendered in "no break" mode. +;; this allows the appearance of a piece to change depending on whether it's at the end. +;; and thus give correct behavior to trailing word spaces, soft hyphens, etc. +(define+provide/contract (render-piece p [before-break? #f]) + ((piece?) (boolean?) . ->* . piece?) + ;; a piece doesn't necessarily have a word-break item in it. + ;; only needs it if the appearance of the piece changes based on location. + ;; so words are likely to have a word-break item; boxes not. + ;; the word break item contains the different characters needed to finish the piece. + (define the-word-break (quad-attr-ref p world:word-break-key #f)) + (let ([p (quad-attr-remove p world:word-break-key)]) ; so it doesn't propagate into subquads + (if the-word-break + (quad (quad-name p) (quad-attrs p) + (append (quad-list p) (let ([rendered-wb ((if before-break? + word-break->before-break + word-break->no-break) the-word-break)]) + (if (> (string-length (word-string rendered-wb)) 0) ; if rendered-wb is "", don't append it + (list rendered-wb) + empty)))) + p))) + +;; shorthand +(define+provide (render-piece-before-break p) + (render-piece p #t)) + +;; helper macro to convert quad into word-break. +;; look up the break character and convert the quad based on what is found. +(define-syntax-rule (render-word-break wb key) + (let ([break-char (quad-attr-ref wb key)]) + (quad (if (whitespace? break-char) 'word-break 'word) + (hash-remove (hash-remove (quad-attrs wb) world:no-break-key) world:before-break-key) (list (quad-attr-ref wb key))))) + +;; uses macro above in no-break mode. +(define (word-break->no-break wb) + (render-word-break wb world:no-break-key)) + +;; uses macro above in before-break mode. +(define (word-break->before-break wb) + (render-word-break wb world:before-break-key)) + +;; is this the last line? compare current line-idx to total lines +(define+provide/contract (last-line? line) + (line? . -> . boolean?) + (define line-idx (quad-attr-ref line world:line-index-key #f)) + (define lines (quad-attr-ref line world:total-lines-key #f)) + (and line-idx lines (= (add1 line-idx) lines))) + + +;; optical kerns are automatically inserted at the beginning and end of a line +;; (by the pieces->line function) +;; but may also be found elsewhere, imperatively (e.g., before an indent) +;; they allow certain characters to hang over the line margin. +;; optical kerns aren't considered when the line is being composed, +;; rather they are an adjustment added to a composed line. +;; the optical kern doesn't have left- or right-handed versions. +;; it just looks at quads on both sides and kerns them if appropriate. +;; in practice, only one will likely be used. +(define+provide/contract (render-optical-kerns exploded-line-quads) + (quads? . -> . quads?) + (define (overhang-width q) + (if (and (word? q) (member (word-string q) world:hanging-chars)) + (fl*s -1.0 (world:optical-overhang) (apply measure-text (word-string q) (font-attributes-with-defaults q))) + 0.0)) + (cond + [(not (empty? exploded-line-quads)) + ;; after exploding, each quad will have a string with one character. + (for/list ([(q-left q q-right) (apply in-parallel (shift exploded-line-quads '(1 0 -1)))]) + (if (optical-kern? q) + (quad-attr-set q world:width-key (fl+ (overhang-width q-left) (overhang-width q-right))) + q))] + [else exploded-line-quads])) + + +;; ultimately every line is filled to fit the whole measure. +;; spacers are used to soak up extra space left over in a line. +;; depending on where the spacers are inserted, different formatting effects are achieved. +;; e.g., left / right / centered / justified. +(define+provide/contract (insert-spacers-in-line line [alignment-override #f]) + ((line?) ((or/c #f symbol?)) . ->* . line?) + ;; important principle: avoid peeking into quad-list to get attributes. + ;; because non-attributed quads may be added. + ;; here, we know that common attributes are hoisted into the line. + ;; so rely on line attributes to get horiz alignment. + (define key-to-use (if (and (last-line? line) (quad-has-attr? line world:horiz-alignment-last-line-key)) + world:horiz-alignment-last-line-key + world:horiz-alignment-key)) + (define horiz-alignment (or alignment-override (quad-attr-ref line key-to-use (world:horiz-alignment-default)))) + (define default-spacer (spacer)) + (define-values (before middle after) (case horiz-alignment + [(left) (values #f #f default-spacer)] + [(right) (values default-spacer #f #f)] + [(center) (values default-spacer #f default-spacer)] + [(justified justify) (values #f default-spacer #f)] + [else (values #f #f #f)])) + (define (copy-with-attrs q attr-source) + (define keys-to-ignore '(width)) ; width will be determined during fill routine + (define filtered-hash (and (quad-attrs attr-source) + (foldl (λ(k ht) (hash-remove ht k)) (quad-attrs attr-source) keys-to-ignore))) + (quad (quad-name q) (merge-attrs filtered-hash q) (quad-list q))) + (define result + (quad (quad-name line) (quad-attrs line) (flatten (let ([qs (quad-list line)]) + `(,@(when/splice before (copy-with-attrs before (first qs))) + + ,@(map (λ(q) (if (and middle (takes-justification-space? q)) + (let ([interleaver (copy-with-attrs middle q)]) + (list interleaver q interleaver)) + q)) qs) + ,@(when/splice after (copy-with-attrs after (last qs)))))))) + result) + + +;; installs the width in the quad. +;; this becomes the value reported by quad-width. +(define (embed-width q w) + (quad-attr-set q world:width-key w)) + +;; installs the ascent in the quad. +(define (record-ascent q) + (quad-attr-set q world:ascent-key (ascent q))) + +;; helper function: doesn't need contract because it's already covered by the callers +(define (render-pieces ps) + (define-values (initial-ps last-p) (split-last ps)) + (snoc (map render-piece initial-ps) (render-piece-before-break last-p))) + +;; compose pieces into a finished line. +;; take the contents of the rendered pieces and merge them. +;; compute looseness for line as a whole. +;; also add ascent to each component quad, which can be different depending on font & size. +(define+provide (pieces->line ps measure-quad-proc) + (pieces? procedure? . -> . line?) + + ;; handle optical kerns here to avoid resplitting and rejoining later. + (define rendered-pieces (render-pieces ps)) + (define split-pieces (map quad-list rendered-pieces)) + (define line-quads (append* split-pieces)) + (define line-quads-maybe-with-opticals + (if world:use-optical-kerns? + (render-optical-kerns + (let ([my-ok (list (optical-kern (quad-attrs (car line-quads))))]) ; take attrs from line, incl measure + (append my-ok line-quads my-ok))) + line-quads)) + (define merged-quads (join-quads line-quads-maybe-with-opticals)) + (define merged-quad-widths (map measure-quad-proc merged-quads)) ; 10% of function time + + (log-quad-debug "making pieces into line = ~v" (string-append* (map quad->string merged-quads))) + + ;; if measure key isn't present, allow an error, because that's weird + (when (not (quad-has-attr? (first line-quads) world:measure-key)) + (error 'pieces->line "quad has no measure key: ~a" (first line-quads))) + + (define measure (fl (quad-attr-ref (first merged-quads) world:measure-key))) + (define looseness (round-float (fl/ (fl- measure (fold-fl+ merged-quad-widths)) measure))) + + ;; quads->line function hoists common attributes into the line + (let* ([new-line-quads (map embed-width merged-quads merged-quad-widths)] ; 15% of time + [new-line-quads (map record-ascent new-line-quads)] ; 35% of time + [new-line (apply line (quad-attrs (car new-line-quads)) new-line-quads)] + [new-line (quad-attr-set new-line world:line-looseness-key looseness)]) + new-line)) + +;; a faster line-measuring function used by the wrapping function to test lines. +(define+provide (measure-potential-line ps) + ;(pieces? . -> . flonum?) + (for*/sum ([rendered-piece (in-list (render-pieces ps))] + [piece-quad (in-list (quad-list rendered-piece))]) + (quad-width-fast piece-quad))) + + + + +(define (vector-break-at vec bps) + (define-values (vecs _) ;; loop backward + (for/fold ([vecs empty][end (vector-length vec)])([start (in-list (reverse (cons 0 bps)))]) + (if (= start end) + (values vecs start) + (values (cons (vector-copy vec start end) vecs) start)))) + vecs) + +(define-syntax-rule (report-time0 name expr) + (let ([op (open-output-string)]) + (parameterize ([current-output-port op]) + (define result (time expr)) + (report (string-trim (get-output-string op)) name) + (values result)))) + +(define-syntax-rule (report-time name expr) + expr) + +;; makes a wrap function by combining component functions. +(define+provide (make-wrap-proc + #:make-pieces-proc make-pieces-proc + #:measure-quad-proc measure-quad-proc + #:compose-line-proc compose-line-proc + #:find-breakpoints-proc find-breakpoints-proc) + (λ(qs [measure #f]) + (let* ([measure (fl+ (fl (or measure (quad-attr-ref/parameter (car qs) world:measure-key))) 0.0)] + [qs (if (quad-has-attr? (car qs) world:measure-key) + qs + (map (curryr quad-attr-set world:measure-key measure) qs))]) + (log-quad-debug "wrapping on measure = ~a" measure) + (define pieces (make-pieces-proc qs)) ; 5% + (define bps (report-time 'find-bps (find-breakpoints-proc (list->vector pieces) measure))) ; 50% + (define broken-pieces (break-at pieces bps)) ; 5% + ; (report (add1 (length bps)) 'lines-in-paragraph) + (report-time 'compose-lines (map (λ(bp) (compose-line-proc bp measure-quad-proc)) broken-pieces))))) ; 50% + +(define width? flonum?) +(define measure? flonum?) +(define (breakpoints? x) (and (list? x) (andmap integer? x))) + + +(define (install-measurement-keys p) + (define basic-width (round-float (apply + (map quad-width-fast (quad-list p))))) + (define p-word-break (quad-attr-ref p world:word-break-key #f)) + (define before-break-width (fl+ basic-width (if p-word-break + (quad-width-fast (word (quad-attrs p-word-break) (quad-attr-ref p-word-break world:before-break-key))) + 0.0))) + (define no-break-width (fl+ basic-width (if p-word-break + (quad-width-fast (word (quad-attrs p-word-break) (quad-attr-ref p-word-break world:no-break-key))) + 0.0))) + (quad-attr-set* p 'bb-width before-break-width 'nb-width no-break-width)) + + +(define (make-piece-vectors pieces) + (define pieces-measured + (report-time 'make-wrap-vector (for/list ([p (in-vector pieces)]) + (define wb (quad-attr-ref p world:word-break-key #f)) + (vector + (fold-fl+ (for/list ([q (in-list (quad-list p))]) + (define str (quad->string q)) + (if (equal? str "") + (fl (quad-attr-ref q world:width-key 0.0)) + (apply measure-text (quad->string q) (font-attributes-with-defaults q))))) + (if wb (apply measure-text (quad-attr-ref wb world:no-break-key) (font-attributes-with-defaults wb)) 0.0) + (if wb (apply measure-text (quad-attr-ref wb world:before-break-key) (font-attributes-with-defaults wb)) 0.0))))) + (values + (for/flvector ([p (in-list pieces-measured)]) (fl+ (vector-ref p 0) (vector-ref p 1))) ; first = word length, second = nb length + (for/flvector ([p (in-list pieces-measured)]) (fl+ (vector-ref p 0) (vector-ref p 2))))) ; first = word length, third = bb length + + +(define (trial-line pieces-rendered-widths pieces-rendered-before-break-widths i j) + (define flvec (flvector-copy pieces-rendered-widths i j)) + (flvector-set! flvec (sub1 (flvector-length flvec)) (flvector-ref pieces-rendered-before-break-widths (sub1 j))) + flvec) + + +(define (get-line-width line) (round-float (fold-fl+ (flvector->list line)))) + + +;; optimal linefitting: minimize the penalty function across all linebreaks in the paragraph +;; slower but nicer. TeX algorithm + SMAWK speed. +(define+provide (best-fit-proc pieces measure) + ;((pieces? . -> . width?) . -> . (pieces? measure? . -> . breakpoints?)) + + ;; don't use struct for penalty, because of read/write overhead + (define $penalty vector) + (define ($penalty-width x) (vector-ref x 1)) + (define ($penalty-hyphens x) (vector-ref x 0)) + ;; Reduce the vector to an integer by treating it as magnitude from origin. + ;(define ($penalty->integer v) (sqrt (apply + (map (compose1 (curryr expt 2)) (list ($penalty-width v)))))) + (define ($penalty->value v) ($penalty-width v)) + (define initial-value ($penalty 0 0.0)) + + ;(define initial-value 0) + (define matrix-value->number identity) + + (define checked-ijs (make-hash)) + ;; this is the winning performance strategy: extract the numbers first, then just wrap on those. + ;; todo: how to avoid re-measuring pieces later? + ;; todo: how to retain information about words per line and hyphen at end? + (define-values (pieces-rendered-widths pieces-rendered-before-break-widths) + (make-piece-vectors pieces)) + (define pieces-with-word-space (vector-map (λ(piece) (and (quad-has-attr? piece world:word-break-key) (equal? (quad-attr-ref (quad-attr-ref piece world:word-break-key) 'nb) " "))) pieces)) + + (log-quad-debug "~a pieces to wrap = ~v" (vector-length pieces) (vector-map quad->string pieces)) + (define (penalty i j) + (hash-set! checked-ijs (cons i j) #t) + (define out-of-bounds-signal ($penalty 0 (fl* -1.0 (fl i)))) ; for ocm + (define last-line? (= j (vector-length pieces))) + (cond + [(or (>= i j) ; implies negative or zero length line + (> j (vector-length pieces))) ; exceeds available pieces + out-of-bounds-signal] + [else + (define penalty-up-to-i (ocm-min-value ocm i)) + (define words (fl (vector-count identity (vector-copy pieces-with-word-space i (sub1 j))))) + (define last-piece-to-test (vector-ref pieces (sub1 j))) + (define new-hyphen? + (and (quad-has-attr? last-piece-to-test world:word-break-key) + (equal? (quad-attr-ref (quad-attr-ref last-piece-to-test world:word-break-key) world:before-break-key) "-"))) + (define cumulative-hyphens (if (not new-hyphen?) + 0 + (add1 ($penalty-hyphens penalty-up-to-i)))) + + + (define line-width (get-line-width (trial-line pieces-rendered-widths pieces-rendered-before-break-widths i j))) + + ($penalty + cumulative-hyphens + (round-float + (fl+s + (if (> cumulative-hyphens world:hyphen-limit) + (fl world:hyphen-penalty) + 0.0) + (fl world:new-line-penalty) + ($penalty->value penalty-up-to-i) + (cond + ;; overfull line: huge penalty prevents break; multiplier is essential for monotonicity. + ;; multiply by -1 because line-width is longer than measure, thus diff is negative + [(fl> line-width (fl* world:allowed-overfull-ratio measure)) + (fl* (fl- line-width measure) (flexpt 10.0 7.0))] + ;; standard penalty, optionally also applied to last line (by changing operator) + [((if world:last-line-can-be-short < <=) j (vector-length pieces)) (fl/ (flexpt (fl- measure line-width) 2.0) (flmax 1.0 words))] + ;; only option left is (= j (length pieces)), meaning we're on the last line. + ;; 0 penalty means any length is ok. + ;[(< (length pieces-to-test) (world:minimum-last-line-pieces)) 50000] + [else 0.0]))))])) + + (define ocm (make-ocm penalty initial-value $penalty->value)) + + ;; starting from last position, ask ocm for position of row minimum (= new-pos) + ;; collect this value, and use it as the input next time + ;; until you reach first position. + (define first-position 0) + (define last-position (vector-length pieces)) + (define result (let loop ([pos last-position][acc null]) + (let ([next-pos (ocm-min-index ocm pos)]) ; first look ahead ... + (if (= next-pos first-position) ; therefore we're done + acc + (loop next-pos (cons next-pos acc)))))) + (log-quad-debug "penalty pieces vs. pairs checked = ~a ~a" (vector-length pieces) (exact->inexact (/ (length (hash-keys checked-ijs)) (vector-length pieces)))) + (log-quad-debug "best-fit breakpoints = ~a" result) + result) + + + +;; greedy linefitting: find the biggest line that will fit, then set the next +;; faster but coarser. Web browsers & most word processors use this approach. +(define+provide (first-fit-proc pieces measure) + ;((pieces? . -> . width?) . -> . (pieces? measure? . -> . breakpoints?)) + (define-values (pieces-rendered-widths pieces-rendered-before-break-widths) + (make-piece-vectors pieces)) + + + (define bps + (for/fold ([bps '(0)])([j-1 (in-range (vector-length pieces))]) + (if (fl> (get-line-width (trial-line pieces-rendered-widths + pieces-rendered-before-break-widths + (car bps) (add1 j-1))) + (fl* world:allowed-overfull-ratio measure)) + (cons j-1 bps) + bps))) + (log-quad-debug "first-fit breakpoints = ~a" (cdr (reverse bps))) + (cdr (reverse bps))) + + +;; wrap proc based on greedy proc +(define+provide wrap-first (make-wrap-proc + #:make-pieces-proc make-pieces + #:measure-quad-proc quad-width + #:compose-line-proc pieces->line + #:find-breakpoints-proc first-fit-proc)) + +;; wrap proc based on penalty function +(define+provide wrap-best (make-wrap-proc + #:make-pieces-proc make-pieces + #:measure-quad-proc quad-width + #:compose-line-proc pieces->line + #:find-breakpoints-proc best-fit-proc)) + + +(define (fixed-width? q) (quad-has-attr? q world:width-key)) + + +;; build quad out to a given width by distributing excess into spacers +;; todo: adjust this to work recursively, so that fill operation cascades down +(define+provide/contract (fill starting-quad [target-width? #f]) + ((quad?) ((or/c #f flonum?)) . ->* . quad?) + (define target-width (fl (or target-width? (quad-attr-ref starting-quad world:measure-key)))) + (define subquads (quad-list starting-quad)) + (define-values (flexible-subquads fixed-subquads) (partition spacer? subquads)) ; only puts fill into spacers. + (define width-used (fold-fl+ (map quad-width fixed-subquads))) + (define width-remaining (round-float (fl- target-width width-used))) + (cond + ;; check for zero condition because we want to divide by this number + ;; if there's no spacers, put one in + ;; todo: go in two rounds, once for word spacers, and once for line spacers? + ;; or separate the line alignment & word-spacing properties? + [(fl= 0.0 (fl (length flexible-subquads))) (fill (insert-spacers-in-line starting-quad (world:horiz-alignment-default)) target-width)] + [else (define width-per-flexible-quad (round-float (fl/ width-remaining (fl (length flexible-subquads))))) + (define new-quad-list (map (λ(q) (if (spacer? q) + (quad-attr-set q world:width-key width-per-flexible-quad) + q)) subquads)) + + (quad (quad-name starting-quad) (quad-attrs (quad-attr-set starting-quad world:width-key target-width)) new-quad-list)])) + + +;; add x positions to a list of fixed-width quads +;; todo: adjust this to work recursively, so that positioning operation cascades down +(define+provide/contract (add-horiz-positions starting-quad) + ((and/c quad? fixed-width?) . -> . quad?) + (define-values (new-quads final-width) + (for/fold ([new-quads empty][width-so-far 0.0])([q (in-list (quad-list starting-quad))]) + (values (cons (quad-attr-set q world:x-position-key width-so-far) new-quads) (round-float (fl+ (quad-width q) width-so-far))))) + (quad (quad-name starting-quad) (quad-attrs starting-quad) (reverse new-quads))) + + + +(module+ main + (define eqs (split-quad (block '(x-align center font "Equity Text B" size 10) "Foo-d" (word '(size 13) "og ") "and " (box) " Zu" (word-break '(nb "c" bb "k-")) "kerman's. Instead of a circle, the result is a picture of the code that, if it were used as an expression, would produce a circle. In other words, code is not a function, but instead a new syntactic form for creating pictures; the bit between the opening parenthesis with code is not an expression, but instead manipulated by the code syntactic form. This helps explain what we meant in the previous section when we said that racket provides require and the function-calling syntax. Libraries are not restricted to exporting values, such as functions; they can also define new syntactic forms. In this sense, Racket isn’t exactly a language at all; it’s more of an idea for how to structure a language so that you can extend it or create entirely " (word '(font "Courier" size 5) "lang.")))) + + (define megs (split-quad (block '(size 15) "Meg is an ally."))) + + (define trials 1) + (time-repeat trials (let () (wrap-first megs 36) (void))) + (time-repeat trials (let ([measure 36]) (wrap-best megs measure) (void))) + + (time-repeat trials (let () (wrap-first eqs 54) (void))) + (time-repeat trials (let ([measure 54]) (wrap-best eqs measure) (void))) + ) +