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The
air
was
as
an
eye
suddenly
struck
blind
.
The
waggon
and
its
load
rolled
no
longer
on
the
horizontal
division
between
clearness
and
opacity
,
but
were
imbedded
in
an
elastic
body
of
a
monotonous
pallor
throughout
.
There
was
no
perceptible
motion
in
the
air
,
not
a
visible
drop
of
water
fell
upon
a
leaf
of
the
beeches
,
birches
,
and
firs
composing
the
wood
on
either
side
.
The
trees
stood
in
an
attitude
of
intentness
,
as
if
they
waited
longingly
for
a
wind
to
come
and
rock
them
.
A
startling
quiet
overhung
all
surrounding
things
—
so
completely
,
that
the
crunching
of
the
waggon
-
wheels
was
as
a
great
noise
,
and
small
rustles
,
which
had
never
obtained
a
hearing
except
by
night
,
were
distinctly
individualized
.
Joseph
Poorgrass
looked
round
upon
his
sad
burden
as
it
loomed
faintly
through
the
flowering
laurustinus
,
then
at
the
unfathomable
gloom
amid
the
high
trees
on
each
hand
,
indistinct
,
shadowless
,
and
spectre
-
like
in
their
monochrome
of
grey
.
He
felt
anything
but
cheerful
,
and
wished
he
had
the
company
even
of
a
child
or
dog
.
Stopping
the
horse
,
he
listened
.
Not
a
footstep
or
wheel
was
audible
anywhere
around
,
and
the
dead
silence
was
broken
only
by
a
heavy
particle
falling
from
a
tree
through
the
evergreens
and
alighting
with
a
smart
rap
upon
the
coffin
of
poor
Fanny
.
The
fog
had
by
this
time
saturated
the
trees
,
and
this
was
the
first
dropping
of
water
from
the
overbrimming
leaves
.
The
hollow
echo
of
its
fall
reminded
the
waggoner
painfully
of
the
grim
Leveller
.
Then
hard
by
came
down
another
drop
,
then
two
or
three
.
Presently
there
was
a
continual
tapping
of
these
heavy
drops
upon
the
dead
leaves
,
the
road
,
and
the
travellers
.
The
nearer
boughs
were
beaded
with
the
mist
to
the
greyness
of
aged
men
,
and
the
rusty
-
red
leaves
of
the
beeches
were
hung
with
similar
drops
,
like
diamonds
on
auburn
hair
.
At
the
roadside
hamlet
called
Roy
-
Town
,
just
beyond
this
wood
,
was
the
old
inn
Buck
’
s
Head
.
It
was
about
a
mile
and
a
half
from
Weatherbury
,
and
in
the
meridian
times
of
stage
-
coach
travelling
had
been
the
place
where
many
coaches
changed
and
kept
their
relays
of
horses
.
All
the
old
stabling
was
now
pulled
down
,
and
little
remained
besides
the
habitable
inn
itself
,
which
,
standing
a
little
way
back
from
the
road
,
signified
its
existence
to
people
far
up
and
down
the
highway
by
a
sign
hanging
from
the
horizontal
bough
of
an
elm
on
the
opposite
side
of
the
way
.
Travellers
—
for
the
variety
tourist
had
hardly
developed
into
a
distinct
species
at
this
date
—
sometimes
said
in
passing
,
when
they
cast
their
eyes
up
to
the
sign
-
bearing
tree
,
that
artists
were
fond
of
representing
the
signboard
hanging
thus
,
but
that
they
themselves
had
never
before
noticed
so
perfect
an
instance
in
actual
working
order
.
It
was
near
this
tree
that
the
waggon
was
standing
into
which
Gabriel
Oak
crept
on
his
first
journey
to
Weatherbury
;
but
,
owing
to
the
darkness
,
the
sign
and
the
inn
had
been
unobserved
.
The
manners
of
the
inn
were
of
the
old
-
established
type
.
Indeed
,
in
the
minds
of
its
frequenters
they
existed
as
unalterable
formulæ
:
e
.
g
.
—
Rap
with
the
bottom
of
your
pint
for
more
liquor
.
For
tobacco
,
shout
.
In
calling
for
the
girl
in
waiting
,
say
,
"
Maid
!
"
