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For a long time there was none, beyond the voice of a weak bird singing a trite old evening song that might doubtless have been heard on the hill at the same hour, and with the self same trills, quavers, and breves, at any sunset of that season for centuries untold. But as they approached the village sundry distant shouts and rattles reached their ears from some elevated spot in that direction as yet screened from view by foliage.
T. Hardy, The Mayor of Casterbridge, Wessex Edition, Macmillan, London, 1912, p. 3, chap. 1
PLACE: Dorchester, Dorset
TIME: ca. 1870
'Ay. 'Tis Fair Day. Though what you hear now is little more than the clatter and scurry of getting away the money of children and fools, for the real business is done earlier than this. I've been working within sound o't all day, but I didn't go up - not I. 'Twas no business of mine.'
T. Hardy, The Mayor of Casterbridge, Wessex Edition, Macmillan, London, 1912, p. 4.
PLACE: Dorchester, Dorset
TIME: ca. 1870
The morning sun was streaming through the crevices of the canvas when the man awoke. A warm glow pervaded the whole atmosphere of the marquee, and a single big blue fly buzzed musically round and round it. Besides the buzz of the fly there was not a sound.
T. Hardy, The Mayor of Casterbridge, Wessex Edition, Macmillan, London, 1912, p. 15.
PLACE: Dorchester, Dorset
TIME: ca. 1870
This seemed to accord with his desire. He went on in silent thought, unheeding the yellow hammers which flitted about the hedges with straws in their bills, the crowns of the mushrooms, and the tinkling of local sheep-bells, whose wearers had had the good fortune not to be included in the fair.
T. Hardy, The Mayor of Casterbridge, Wessex Edition, Macmillan, London, 1912, p. 16.
PLACE: Dorchester, Dorset
TIME: ca. 1870
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