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It is the threshing of the last |
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作者：fd159753 日期：2010-1-30 15:09:19 |
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It is the threshing of the last
It is the threshing of the last wheat-rick atKitchen cabinets Flintcomb-Ash Farm. The dawn of the March morning is singularly inexpressive, and there is nothing to show where the eastern horizon lies. Against the twilight rises the trapezoidal top of the stack, which has stood bath safetyforlornly here through the washing and bleaching of the wintry weather.
When Izz Huett and Tess arrived at the scene of operations only a rustling Bike helmetdenoted that others had preceded them; to which, as the light increased, there were presently added the silhouettes of two men on the summit. They were busily `unhaling' the rick, that is, stripping off the thatch before beginning to throw down the sheaves; and while this was in progress Izz and Tess, with the other women-workers, in their whitey-brown Bridal dressespinners, stood waiting and shivering, Farmer Groby having insisted upon their being on thebuzzer spot thus early to get the job over if possible by the end of the day.
Close under the eaves of the stack, and as yet barely visible, was the red tyrant that the women had blu ray copycome to serve - a timber-framed construction, with straps and wheels appertaining - the threshing-machine which, whilst it was going, kept up a despotic demand upon the endurance of their muscles and nerves.
A little way off there was another indistinct figure; this one black, with a sustained hiss that spoke of strength very much in reserve. The long chimney running up beside an ash-tree, and the warmth which radiated from the spot, explained without the necessity of much daylight that here was the engine which was tbaby shampooo act as the primum mobile of this little world. By the engine stood a dark motionless being, a sooty and grimy embodiment of tallness, in a sort of trance, with a heap of coals by his side: it was the engineman. The isolation of his manner and colour lent him the appearance of a creature from Tophet, who had strayed into the pellucid smokelessness of this region of yellow grain and pale soil, with which he had nothing in common, to amaze and to discompose its aborigines.
What he looked he felt. He was in the agricultural world, but not of it. baby powderHe served fire and smoke; these denizens of the fields served vegetation, weather, frost, and sun. He travelledSolid State Relaywith his engine from farm to farm, from county to county, for as yet the steamembroidery digitizing threshing-machine was itinerant in this part of Wessex. He spoke in a strange northern accent; auto fuel filterhis thoughts being turned inwards upon himself, his eye on his iron charge, hardly perceiving the scenes around him, and caring for them not at all: holding only strictly necessary intercourse with the natives, as if some ancient doom compelled him to wander here against his will in the service of his Plutonic master. TPigment yellowhe long strap which ran from the driving-wheel of his engine to the red thresher under the rick was the sole tie-line between agriculture and him.
While they uncovered the sheaves he stood apathetic beside his portable repository of force, rCoffee tableound whose hot blackness the morning air quivered. He had nothing to do with preparatory labour. His fire was waiting ladies handbagncandescent, his steam was at high pressure, in a few seconds he could make the long strap move at an invisible velocity. Beyond its extent the environment might be corn, straw, or chaos; it was all the same to him. If any of the autochthonous idlers asked him what he called himself, he replied shortly, `an engineer'.
The rick was unhaled by full daylight; the men then took their places, the women mounted, stainless steel jewelryand the work began. Farmer Groby - or, as they called him, `he' - had arrived ere this, and by his orders Tess was placed on the platform of the machine, close to the man who fed it, her business being to untie every sheaf of corn handed on to her by Izz Huett, who stood next, but on the rick; so that the feeder could seize it and spread it over the fuel filterrevolving drum, which whisked out every grain in one moment. |
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