Under the Greenwood Tree; Or, The Mellstock Quire Read online

  PART THE FIRST--WINTER

  CHAPTER I: MELLSTOCK-LANE

  To dwellers in a wood almost every species of tree has its voice as wellas its feature. At the passing of the breeze the fir-trees sob and moanno less distinctly than they rock; the holly whistles as it battles withitself; the ash hisses amid its quiverings; the beech rustles while itsflat boughs rise and fall. And winter, which modifies the note of suchtrees as shed their leaves, does not destroy its individuality.

  On a cold and starry Christmas-eve within living memory a man was passingup a lane towards Mellstock Cross in the darkness of a plantation thatwhispered thus distinctively to his intelligence. All the evidences ofhis nature were those afforded by the spirit of his footsteps, whichsucceeded each other lightly and quickly, and by the liveliness of hisvoice as he sang in a rural cadence:

  "With the rose and the lily And the daffodowndilly, The lads and the lasses a-sheep-shearing go."

  The lonely lane he was following connected one of the hamlets ofMellstock parish with Upper Mellstock and Lewgate, and to his eyes,casually glancing upward, the silver and black-stemmed birches with theircharacteristic tufts, the pale grey boughs of beech, the dark-crevicedelm, all appeared now as black and flat outlines upon the sky, whereinthe white stars twinkled so vehemently that their flickering seemed likethe flapping of wings. Within the woody pass, at a level anything lowerthan the horizon, all was dark as the grave. The copse-wood forming thesides of the bower interlaced its branches so densely, even at thisseason of the year, that the draught from the north-east flew along thechannel with scarcely an interruption from lateral breezes.

  After passing the plantation and reaching Mellstock Cross the whitesurface of the lane revealed itself between the dark hedgerows like aribbon jagged at the edges; the irregularity being caused by temporaryaccumulations of leaves extending from the ditch on either side.

  The song (many times interrupted by flitting thoughts which took theplace of several bars, and resumed at a point it would have reached hadits continuity been unbroken) now received a more palpable check, in theshape of "Ho-i-i-i-i-i!" from the crossing lane to Lower Mellstock, onthe right of the singer who had just emerged from the trees.

  "Ho-i-i-i-i-i!" he answered, stopping and looking round, though with noidea of seeing anything more than imagination pictured.

  "Is that thee, young Dick Dewy?" came from the darkness.

  "Ay, sure, Michael Mail."

  "Then why not stop for fellow-craters--going to thy own father's housetoo, as we be, and knowen us so well?"

  Dick Dewy faced about and continued his tune in an under-whistle,implying that the business of his mouth could not be checked at amoment's notice by the placid emotion of friendship.

  Having come more into the open he could now be seen rising against thesky, his profile appearing on the light background like the portrait of agentleman in black cardboard. It assumed the form of a low-crowned hat,an ordinary-shaped nose, an ordinary chin, an ordinary neck, and ordinaryshoulders. What he consisted of further down was invisible from lack ofsky low enough to picture him on.

  Shuffling, halting, irregular footsteps of various kinds were now heardcoming up the hill, and presently there emerged from the shade severallyfive men of different ages and gaits, all of them working villagers ofthe parish of Mellstock. They, too, had lost their rotundity with thedaylight, and advanced against the sky in flat outlines, which suggestedsome processional design on Greek or Etruscan pottery. They representedthe chief portion of Mellstock parish choir.

  The first was a bowed and bent man, who carried a fiddle under his arm,and walked as if engaged in studying some subject connected with thesurface of the road. He was Michael Mail, the man who had hallooed toDick.

  The next was Mr. Robert Penny, boot- and shoemaker; a little man, who,though rather round-shouldered, walked as if that fact had not come tohis own knowledge, moving on with his back very hollow and his face fixedon the north-east quarter of the heavens before him, so that his lowerwaist-coat-buttons came first, and then the remainder of his figure. Hisfeatures were invisible; yet when he occasionally looked round, two faintmoons of light gleamed for an instant from the precincts of his eyes,denoting that he wore spectacles of a circular form.

  The third was Elias Spinks, who walked perpendicularly and dramatically.The fourth outline was Joseph Bowman's, who had now no distinctiveappearance beyond that of a human being. Finally came a weak lath-likeform, trotting and stumbling along with one shoulder forward and his headinclined to the left, his arms dangling nervelessly in the wind as ifthey were empty sleeves. This was Thomas Leaf.

  "Where be the boys?" said Dick to this somewhat indifferently-matchedassembly.

  The eldest of the group, Michael Mail, cleared his throat from a greatdepth.

  "We told them to keep back at home for a time, thinken they wouldn't bewanted yet awhile; and we could choose the tuens, and so on."

  "Father and grandfather William have expected ye a little sooner. I havejust been for a run round by Ewelease Stile and Hollow Hill to warm myfeet."

  "To be sure father did! To be sure 'a did expect us--to taste the littlebarrel beyond compare that he's going to tap."

  "'Od rabbit it all! Never heard a word of it!" said Mr. Penny, gleams ofdelight appearing upon his spectacle-glasses, Dick meanwhile singingparenthetically--

  "The lads and the lasses a-sheep-shearing go."

  "Neighbours, there's time enough to drink a sight of drink now aforebedtime?" said Mail.

  "True, true--time enough to get as drunk as lords!" replied Bowmancheerfully.

  This opinion being taken as convincing they all advanced between thevarying hedges and the trees dotting them here and there, kicking theirtoes occasionally among the crumpled leaves. Soon appeared glimmeringindications of the few cottages forming the small hamlet of UpperMellstock for which they were bound, whilst the faint sound of church-bells ringing a Christmas peal could be heard floating over upon thebreeze from the direction of Longpuddle and Weatherbury parishes on theother side of the hills. A little wicket admitted them to the garden,and they proceeded up the path to Dick's house.