Adam Bede

This is what I undertake to do for you, reader. With this drop of ink at the end of my pen, I will show you the roomy workshop of Mr. J

ite; the slanting sunbeams shone through the transparent shavings that flew before the steady plane, and lit up the fine grain of the oak panelling which stood propped against the wall. On a heap of those soft shavings a rough, grey shepherd dog had made himself a pleasant bed, and was lying with h

soul, and

stage of

ff dull

entrated attention, and the sonorous voice subsided into a low

y converse

ce as the no

above the elbow showed an arm that was likely to win the prize for feats of strength; yet the long supple hand, with its broad finger-tips, looked ready for works of skill. In his tall stalwartness Adam Bede was a Saxon, and justified his name; but the jet-black hair, made the more noticeable by its contrast with

remarkable difference of expression both in form and face. Seth’s broad shoulders have a slight stoop; his eyes are grey; his eyebrows have less prominence and more repose than his brother’s; and his glance, instead of being keen, is confid

they could get a copper from Seth

ho, lifting the door at which he had been working intently, placed it a

Sandy Jim, paused from his planing, and Adam said to Seth, with a sh

with answering surprise;

sedly. Adam did not join in the laughter, but there was a slight smile on his f

eth clapped his hands to his head,

seizing the door. “We’ll hang up th’ door at fur end o’ th’ shop an’ write on

ou’ll mayhap be making such a slip yourself some day

a good while afore my head’s f

en full o’ drink,

and was about to begin writing his inscription, mak

tools, striding up to Ben, and seizing his right shoulder

hed the brush from his powerless right, and made a movement as if he would perform the feat of writing with his left. In a mom

ing. Why, he’s i’ the right to laugh a

l he promises to let th

l about it. You know Adam will have his way. You may’s well try to turn a wag

n, “but I donna mind sayin’ as I’ll

, Ben,” said Adam, laughi

ving had the worst in the bodily contest, was bent on

began —”the pretty parson’s face or h

night; happen ye’d get something to think on yourself then, instead o’ those wicked songs you

sn’t want such heavy earnin’s. Happen I shall do the coortin’ an’ the religion both together, as YE do, S

r for me to win, I doubt. Only you come and hea

ake for her text? Happen ye can tell me, Seth, if so be as I shouldna come up i’ time for’t. Will’t be — what come

nly, “you let the words o’ the Bibl

am? I thought ye war dead again t

’. I said, You let the Bible alone: you’ve got a jest- book, han’t

-night, I should think. Ye’ll do finely t’ lead the singin’. But I don’ know

ugh it’s like enough you’ll turn to something worse. Mester Irwine’s got more sense nor to meddle wi’ peo

ne so fond o’ your dis

’s thick ale, but I don’t hinder you

, thee mustna say as anybody’s religion’s like thick ale. Thee dostna believe but what the

on. But t’ hear some o’ them preachers, you’d think as a man must be doing nothing all’s life but shutting’s eyes and looking what’s agoing on inside him. I know a man must have the love o’ God in his soul, and the Bible’s God’s word. But what does the Bible say? Why, it says as God put his sperrit into the workman as built the tabernacle, to make him do all the carved work and things as wanted a nice hand. And this is my way o’ looking at it: there’s the sperrit o’ God in all things and all times

ks while Adam was speaking; “that’s the best sarmunt I’ve heared this long while. By

g the preachers thee find’st so much fault with has turned many an idle fellow into an industrious un. It’s

out o’ th’ doors sometimes

isna religion as was i’ fault there; it was Seth Bede, as was allays a

arted chap, panels or no panels; an’ ye donna set up your bristles

“thee mustna take me unkind. I wasna driving at thee in what I said jus

“I know that well enough. Thee’t like thy dog Gyp — thee bar

o, true to his name, had kept silence throughout the previous conversation, had flung down his hammer as he was in the act of lifting it; and Seth, too, had straightened his back, and was putting out his hand towards his paper cap. Adam alone had gone on with his work as if nothing had happened

um Taft broke silence, and said, “Aye, aye, Adam lad, ye talk like a young un. When y’ are

eckon. I hate to see a man’s arms drop down as if he was shot, before the clock’s fairly struck, just as if he’

i’ preachers a while agoo — y’ are fond enough o’ preachin’ yoursen. Ye may like work better

basket and left the workshop, quickly followed by Mum Taft and Sandy Jim. Seth

e go’st to the preaching?

before going for ten. I’ll happen see Dinah Morris safe home, if she’

ther not to look f

f to-night?” said Seth rather timidl

going to t

in his pocket, and begin to twist his apron round his waist, than Gyp ran forward and looked up in his master’s face with patient expectation. If Gyp had had a tail he would dou

?” said Adam, with the same gentle modul

ch as to say, “Of course.” Poor fellow,

no official, walking in procession, could look more resolutely unconscious o

ed windows were bright and speckless, and the door-stone was as clean as a white boulder at ebb tide. On the door-stone stood a clean old woman, in a dark-striped linen gown, a red kerchief, and a linen cap, talking to some speckled fowls which

’ th’ house, and Mester Burge ’ull be back anon; he’d

you; I’m off hom

the valley. As he reached the foot of the slope, an elderly horseman, with his portmanteau strapped behind him, stopped his horse when Adam had

sently struck across the fields, and now broke out into

y converse

ce as the no

all-seeing

oughts, thy w