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MIDDLEMARCH-Part68_GEORGE ELIOT(1819-1880)_English Literature(文学)-第2页

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your ground from my father and grandfather afore me, an' hev dropped

our money into't, an' me an' my children might lie an' rot on



the ground for top-dressin' as we can't find the money to buy,

if the King wasn't to put a stop."



"My good fellow, you're drunk, you know," said Mr. Brooke,

confidentially but not judiciously. "Another day, another day,"



he added, turning as if to go.

But Dagley immediately fronted him, and Fag at his heels growled low,



as his master's voice grew louder and more insulting, while Monk

also drew close in silent dignified watch. The laborers on the wagon



were pausing to listen, and it seemed wiser to be quite passive

than to attempt a ridiculousflight pursued by a bawling man.



"I'm no more drunk nor you are, nor so much," said Dagley.

"I can carry my liquor, an' I know what I meean. An' I meean



as the King 'ull put a stop to 't, for them say it as knows it,

as there's to be a Rinform, and them landlords as never done



the right thing by their tenants 'ull be treated i' that way as

they'll hev to scuttle off. An' there's them i' Middlemarch knows



what the Rinform is--an' as knows who'll hev to scuttle. Says they,

`I know who YOUR landlord is.' An' says I, `I hope you're



the better for knowin' him, I arn't.' Says they, `He's a close-fisted un.'

`Ay ay,' says I. `He's a man for the Rinform,' says they.



That's what they says. An' I made out what the Rinform were--

an' it were to send you an' your likes a-scuttlin'



an' wi' pretty strong-smellin' things too. An' you may do as you

like now, for I'm none afeard on you. An' you'd better let



my boy aloan, an' look to yoursen, afore the Rinform has got upo'

your back. That's what I'n got to say," concluded Mr. Dagley,



striking his fork into the ground with a firmness which proved

inconvenient as he tried to draw it up again.



At this last action Monk began to bark loudly, and it was a moment

for Mr. Brooke to escape. He walked out of the yard as quickly



as he could, in some amazement at the novelty of his situation.

He had never been insulted on his own land before, and had been inclined



to regard himself as a general favorite (we are all apt to do so,

when we think of our own amiability more than of what other people



are likely to want of us). When he had quarrelled with Caleb Garth

twelve years before he had thought that the tenants would be pleased



at the landlord's taking everything into his own hands.

Some who follow the narrative of his experience may wonder at the



midnight darkness of Mr. Dagley; but nothing was easier in those

times than for an hereditary farmer of his grade to be ignorant,



in spite somehow of having a rector in the twin parish who was a

gentleman to the backbone, a curate nearer at hand who preached more



learnedly than the rector, a landlord who had gone into everything,

especially fine art and social improvement, and all the lights



of Middlemarch only three miles off. As to the facility with

which mortals escape knowledge, try an average acquaintance in



the intellectual blaze of London, and consider what that eligible

person for a dinner-party would have been if he had learned scant



skill in "summing" from the parish-clerk of Tipton, and read

a chapter in the Bible with immense difficulty, because such names



as Isaiah or Apollos remained unmanageable after twice spelling.

Poor Dagley read a few verses sometimes on a Sunday evening,



and the world was at least not darker to him than it had been before.

Some things he knew thoroughly, namely, the slovenly habits of farming,



and the awkwardness of weather, stock and crops, at Freeman's End--

so called apparently by way of sarcasm, to imply that a man was free



to quit it if he chose, but that there was no earthly "beyond"

open to him.



CHAPTER XL.

Wise in his daily work was he:



To fruits of diligence,

And not to faiths or polity,



He plied his utmost sense.

These perfect in their little parts,



Whose work is all their prize--

Without them how could laws, or arts,



Or towered cities rise?

In watching effects, if only of an electric battery, it is often



necessary to change our place and examine a particular mixture

or group at some distance from the point where the movement we



are interested in was set up. The group I am moving towards is




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