Far From the Madding Crowd | Page 6

juncture with Gabriel Oak, and he recognised his position clearly. The
first movement in his new progress was the lambing of his ewes, and
sheep having been his speciality from his youth, he wisely refrained
from deputing the task of tending them at this season to a hireling or a
novice.
The wind continued to beat about the corners of the hut, but the
flute-playing ceased. A rectangular space of light appeared in the side
of the hut, and in the opening the outline of Farmer Oak's figure. He
carried a lantern in his hand, and closing the door behind him, came
forward and busied himself about this nook of the field for nearly
twenty minutes, the lantern light appearing and disappearing here and
there, and brightening him or darkening him as he stood before or
behind it.
Oak's motions, though they had a quiet-energy, were slow, and their

deliberateness accorded well with his occupation. Fitness being the
basis of beauty, nobody could have denied that his steady swings and
turns in and about the flock had elements of grace, Yet, although if
occasion demanded he could do or think a thing with as mercurial a
dash as can the men of towns who are more to the manner born, his
special power, morally, physically, and mentally, was static, owing
little or nothing to momentum as a rule.
A close examination of the ground hereabout, even by the wan starlight
only, revealed how a portion of what would have been casually called a
wild slope had been appropriated by Farmer Oak for his great purpose
this winter. Detached hurdles thatched with straw were stuck into the
ground at various scattered points, amid and under which the whitish
forms of his meek ewes moved and rustled. The ring of the sheep-bell,
which had been silent during his absence, recommenced, in tones that
had more mellowness than clearness, owing to an increasing growth of
surrounding wool. This continued till Oak withdrew again from the
flock. He returned to the hut, bringing in his arms a new- born lamb,
consisting of four legs large enough for a full- grown sheep, united by a
seemingly inconsiderable membrane about half the substance of the
legs collectively, which constituted the animal's entire body just at
present.
The little speck of life he placed on a wisp of hay before the small stove,
where a can of milk was simmering. Oak extinguished the lantern by
blowing into it and then pinching the snuff, the cot being lighted by a
candle suspended by a twisted wire. A rather hard couch, formed of a
few corn sacks thrown carelessly down, covered half the floor of this
little habitation, and here the young man stretched himself along,
loosened his woollen cravat, and closed his eyes. In about the time a
person unaccustomed to bodily labour would have decided upon which
side to lie, Farmer Oak was asleep.
The inside of the hut, as it now presented itself, was cosy and alluring,
and the scarlet handful of fire in addition to the candle, reflecting its
own genial colour upon whatever it could reach, flung associations of
enjoyment even over utensils and tools. In the corner stood the

sheep-crook, and along a shelf at one side were ranged bottles and
canisters of the simple preparations pertaining to ovine surgery and
physic; spirits of wine, turpentine, tar, magnesia, ginger, and castor-oil
being the chief. On a triangular shelf across the corner stood bread,
bacon, cheese, and a cup for ale or cider, which was supplied from a
flagon beneath. Beside the provisions lay the flute, whose notes had
lately been called forth by the lonely watcher to beguile a tedious hour.
The house was ventilated by two round holes, like the lights of a ship's
cabin, with wood slides.
The lamb, revived by the warmth began to bleat, and the sound entered
Gabriel's ears and brain with an instant meaning, as expected sounds
will. Passing from the profoundest sleep to the most alert wakefulness
with the same ease that had accompanied the reverse operation, he
looked at his watch, found that the hour-hand had shifted again, put on
his hat, took the lamb in his arms, and carried it into the darkness. After
placing the little creature with its mother, he stood and carefully
examined the sky, to ascertain the time of night from the altitudes of
the stars.
The Dog-star and Aldebaran, pointing to the restless Pleiades, were
half-way up the Southern sky, and between them hung Orion, which
gorgeous constellation never burnt more vividly than now, as it soared
forth above the rim of the landscape. Castor and Pollux with their quiet
shine were almost on the meridian: the barren and gloomy Square of
Pegasus was creeping round to the north-west; far away