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Hardy, Thomas, 1840-1928

"Far from the Madding Crowd"

Sometimes this obscure corner received no
inhabitant for the space of two or three years, and
then it was usually but a pauper, a poacher, or other
sinner of undignified sins.
The persistent torrent from the gurgoyle's jaws
directed all its vengeance into the grave. The rich
tawny mould was stirred into motion, and boiled like
chocolate. The water accumulated and washed deeper
down, and the roar of the pool thus formed spread into
the night as the head and chief among other noises of
the kind created by the deluging rain. The flowers so
carefully planted by Fanny's repentant lover began to
move and writhe in their bed. The winter-violets
turned slowly upside down, and became a mere mat of
mud. Soon the snowdrop and other bulbs danced in
the boiling mass like ingredients in a cauldron. Plants
of the tufted species were loosened, rose to the surface,
and floated of.
Troy did not awake from his comfortless sleep till it
was broad day. Not having been in bed for two nights
his shoulders felt stiff his feet tender, and his head
heavy. He remembered his position, arose, shivered,
took the spade, and again went out.


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