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On the Western Circuit
On the Western Circuit
On the Western Circuit
Ebook34 pages42 minutes

On the Western Circuit

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On the Western Circuit is a novella by Thomas Hardy. Edith is a rural girl who falls in love with an older man, in this romance where the mistakes of love life are tragically explored and bared naked.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherDigiCat
Release dateMay 29, 2022
ISBN8596547019336
On the Western Circuit
Author

Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy was born in 1840 in Dorchester, Dorset. He enrolled as a student in King’s College, London, but never felt at ease there, seeing himself as socially inferior. This preoccupation with society, particularly the declining rural society, featured heavily in Hardy’s novels, with many of his stories set in the fictional county of Wessex. Since his death in 1928, Hardy has been recognised as a significant poet, influencing The Movement poets in the 1950s and 1960s.

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    Book preview

    On the Western Circuit - Thomas Hardy

    Thomas Hardy

    On the Western Circuit

    EAN 8596547019336

    DigiCat, 2022

    Contact: DigiCat@okpublishing.info

    Table of Contents

    Cover

    Titlepage

    Text

    I.

    Table of Contents

    THE man who played the disturbing part in the two quiet lives hereafter named—no great man, in any sense, by the way—first had knowledge of them on an October evening in the city of Melchester. He had been standing in the Close, vainly endeavouring to gain amid the darkness a glimpse of the most homogeneous pile of mediæval architecture in England, which towered and tapered from the damp and level sward in front of him. While he stood the presence of the Cathedral walls was revealed rather by the ear than by the eyes; he could not see them, but they reflected sharply a roar of sound which entered the Close by a street leading from the city square, and, falling upon the building, was flung back upon him.

    He postponed till the morrow his attempt to examine the deserted edifice, and turned his attention to the noise. It was compounded of steam barrel-organs, the clanging of gongs, the ringing of hand-bells, the clack of rattles, and the undistinguishable shouts of men, A lurid light hung in the air in the direction of the tumult. Thitherward he went, passing under the arched gateway, along a straight street, and into the square.

    He might have searched Europe over for a greater contrast between juxtaposed scenes. The spectacle was that of the eighth chasm of the Inferno as to colour and flame, and, as to mirth, a development of the Homeric heaven. A smoky glare, of the complexion of brass-filings, ascended from the fiery tongues of innumerable naphtha lamps, affixed to booths, stalls, and other temporary erections which crowded the spacious market-square. In front of this irradiation scores of human figures, more or less in profile, were darting athwart and across, up, down, and around, like gnats against a sunset.

    Their motions were so rhythmical that they seemed to be moved by machinery. And it presently appeared that they were moved by machinery indeed; the figures being those of the patrons of swings, see-saws, flying-leaps, above all of the three steam roundabouts which occupied the centre of the position. It was from the latter that the din of steam-organs came.

    Throbbing humanity in full light was, on second thoughts, better than ecclesiology in the dark. The young man, lighting a short pipe

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